Letters to Nobody
by Giselle d'Angouleme
Summary: "You may not know me, that's all right. While I'm writing this, all I can think of is, 'Is there anybody out there...' Among the thousands that pass this street every day, you are reading my letter. You must be out there. You must be real."
1. One: you are real

Letters to Nobody

A letter is a written message from one person to another. The writer conveys his or her thoughts, feelings, ideas, opinions, and everything into a piece of paper for the recipient to read. A letter is written with care, because words are all a writer has when he or she cannot see the person for whom the letter is intended. The writer can only express him or her self through whatever is written on an unassuming piece of paper; so the words must be carefully chosen, the sentences must be laid out in perfect order, each idea must be delineated so that the recipient will understand the writer.

It is important, so very important, for the recipient to understand exactly what the writer is trying to say. What is the point of writing a letter if nobody can understand it?

Words are fickle, flat. Words are just words, two-dimensional things with meanings attached to them. But there is a magic that transforms words into something alive, an ancient magic that most people have forgotten and taken for granted.

It is a magic that, when poured into the writing of words, makes a letter so beautiful.

—

_Hello, how are you today?_

_You may not know me, and that's all right. While I'm writing this, all I can think of is, 'will somebody even pick this up? Will somebody even read this? Is there anybody out there?'_

_But here you are. Among the millions of people in this city, and among the thousands that pass this street every day, you are reading my letter. You must be out there. You must be real. That makes me so happy._

My heartbeat thudded loudly in my ears as I stared at the paper in my hand.

Around me, humanity flowed like a river, forming eddies as one person moved opposite another. People talked with each other, or to their cellphones. Weary businessmen walked towards the direction of the nearest bar to relax after a heavy work day. Men and women met up and set up dates. Cars on the road behaved much the same, communicating with each other by the blares of horns and sending the sounds of revving engines and the scent of exhaust up to the sky crowded by tall buildings.

I stood in front of a light pole, a single snag in the stream of people coming and going. My hair whipped back and forth in their tails as the wind picked up and made everyone around me hurry their pace. My fingers tightened on the single sheet of white paper and its equally white envelope.

_Will you keep reading my letters, I wonder?_

I took my eyes off the neatly creased paper and looked around. Nobody met my eyes as they passed me by. It was like they didn't see me at all. Like I wasn't there. My gaze drew back to the simple missive, frowning. What kind of weirdo would write something like this? More to the point, I realized as it dawned on me, why did I open it? That would make me the bigger weirdo, wouldn't it?

But it had just been there, taped to the light pole just before the intersection, a piece of white among a fluttering of colorful fliers and posters. It had caught my eye, and against better judgment and common sense, I had walked right up to it, ripped it from its anchor, and opened it.

Now I had to live with the consequence of my action. Or should I? I could put the letter back...let someone else pick it up. Whoever wrote it wouldn't even know...right?

Before I could come to a decision, the sky tore open and rained down on the city and, like a startled herd, everyone ran for cover. I looked at the paper once more, seeing it slowly soak up the raindrops that were coming down faster and faster. If I dropped it, it would be trampled underfoot. The white of the paper would be dirtied, maybe even ripped to shreds once it was soggy enough.

Somehow the thought disturbed me, that something as simple as rain could wipe away someone's message, that it could stop someone from trying to reach out to another human being. Because this was what this person was trying to do, right?

This person, whoever this person was, seemed so lonely.

I liked to think that was the reason why I kept the letter in my bag and ran for the station like everyone else.

Like many of the single working class, I lived in an apartment building, third from the intersection, on the third floor, the third door down the hall. The rooms inside were small, but they suited my needs. For a fourth of my monthly earnings, I got a kitchen, a living room, a bathroom, a bedroom, and a balcony. All tiny enough for a single person, like me.

Yes. I was lucky to get it cheaply enough, and close to the subway station too.

I stomped my drenched ankle boots on the doormat before removing them. I hoped they wouldn't be ruined when they dried. I stood, dripping rainwater on the foyer. Even from the pounding rain outside, the silence of my apartment seemed more deafening.

"I'm home," I sighed. My voice fell heavily to the floor. Nobody was there to receive me. "Home, sweet home."

I walked past the kitchen, and stopped by the living room to drop my bag onto the secondhand couch before opening the door to my bedroom. It took all of ten steps from the door to reach it with the detour to the couch.

After a quick shower to wash away the rain and accumulated dust from traveling by foot, I walked back to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Just a simple fare of onion soup, which I took with me to the living room so I could eat while watching the news, which I eventually tuned out in favor of looking out the window, at the rain illuminated by a single distant lamp post.

I was distracted. The letter in my bag was like a beacon that kept calling to me. I tried my best to ignore it, which meant that I only took it out of my bag after I cleaned up in the kitchen and got dressed for bed.

The paper was still the same pristine white, if only a little rumpled from being hastily stashed in my bag. I was disappointed to notice that some parts of the paper where the water got to it was warped, the ink on it a little blurred. I felt a pang inside of me, and I felt bad for not having been more careful.

Whoever wrote this letter had very beautiful handwriting. The characters were perfectly written, and in a straight line which was hard to do on an unlined paper. It was almost an unconscious movement that brought the letter closer to my scrutinizing gaze, trying to see if it was printed or not. But of course it wasn't. I could feel the slight bumps against my fingertips where the pen pressed down on the paper too strongly.

Could this person be a man? The paper was plain, there weren't any flourishes on the words that made the writing seem feminine. Or was I being too wishful?

_Will you keep reading my letters, I wonder?_

I wrinkled my nose and set the letter down on my bedside table, turning off the light. This was probably just a prank pulled by some bored kid. It was nothing to get excited about.

Right?

—

I arrived at work early the next day, making my boss proud. ("Miku-tan, you're so eager to get to work today, huh? Go on and put on your cute costume~!")

I...worked at a maid cafe called _Tête-à-Tête_. The money was good, too; and while I didn't really care for the platform heels, the lacy dresses were cute. Dressing up had always been a weakness of mine. It was something I didn't get to do often, which was probably why I took this job in the first place.

The cafe was Parisian chic, with polished cobblestone tiles and inlaid bleached igneous rock walls. Fifteen cream marble-top wrought iron tables were scattered around the floorspace, each surrounded by two or three cushioned wrought iron chairs. Ferns and other greenery hung from hooks by the walls, and along the middle of the ceiling were two lazily spinning fans.

We prided ourselves with top service, and an unmatched daily menu customized by the boss herself.

A bar lined one wall, behind which was the staff and kitchen area. I slipped under the counter, greeting the patisserie chef, and made my way to the changing rooms. I emerged moments later in a black dress with an off shoulder peasant top. The skirt, which hung down to my knees without the petticoat, fluffed up to mid-thigh. I smiled as I tied the trademark frilly apron around my waist. Lastly, a lace bonnet sat atop my head, tied down by a ribbon under my chin. My aquamarine hair was in high tails, the ends loosely curled and resting against the back of my hips.

Boss, who demanded to be called 'Oneesama,' took one look at me and announced her day perfect. She passed me a written list for today's menu, saying, "Here you are, cutie. The outdoor board is behind the bar, and I'm afraid you're going to have to ask Leon where he last put the stepladder. Otherwise you can just ask him to write up the bar top menu himself. Ta!" She flounced off to attend to other things.

I found the chalkboard sign at the back of the bar. Laying it flat on the bar's surface, I started writing the day's menu with the colored chalk I found in one of the drawers. Halfway through, I found myself comparing my handwriting to that person's. Our handwriting were vastly different. My strokes tended to curve more often, making my characters rounded and...

"Waaah, what cute handwriting you have, Hatsune-san."

I looked over my shoulder to find one of the waiters, Leon, looming over me. He was a very tall blond, whose hair always hung over his eyes when he wasn't slicking it back for work. "It's like a child's handwriting," he said, smiling widely. "So cute!"

I could only stare as I felt the heat creeping up my face. "No, it's not," I said. "It's how it's supposed to look like." What was I saying? What did that mean anyway?

"Of course, of course," he nodded gamely and gave me an affectionate pat on my head, moving towards the changing rooms. "Keep up the good work, okay?"

"Ah, Leon-san, the stepladder..."

"It's in the janitor's closet," he said, turning back briefly to look at me. He smiled reassuringly, a dimple growing on one cheek. "But don't worry, I'll do the other boards once I finish changing. Leave it to oniisan!"

Leon was the big brother type in our staff.

As the day wore on, the rest of the staff trickled in until the cafe opened at promptly ten o'clock. I worked, going back and forth from the bar to the tables, taking orders and serving them with the practiced grace that Boss had drilled into all of us during the early stages of employment.

"Ah, Miku-chan, you ease this old man's heart with just the neatness of your actions," a regular said. He worked in the building across the street, and always took lunch in our cafe without fail. "You have such graceful hands."

"Thank you, but I'm still learning," I smiled, tilting my head just so to employ what the Boss termed the 'cuteness factor.' "You're hardly old, though, Enzo-san. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"No, no. You're old once you get married, like me," he smiled ruefully, holding up his left hand to show the simple gold band around the base of his ring finger. "Stay young for me, Miku-chan."

Customers said a lot of silly and inconsequential things like that. I learned to brush them off without batting an eyelash after a while. But somehow, I felt that with every brush off, I also brushed off a piece of myself. That piece that wanted to react and say things like, "Hey! How could you say that to me?" or "Don't touch me like that again!"

I shouldn't be thinking such things during work hours anyway, so instead I found myself anticipating the end of my shift.

Tête-à-Tête was a unique cafe; it had a day shift and a night shift. The day shift's hours of operation were from ten o'clock in the morning to five o'clock in the evening. The night shift immediately took over from then until midnight. While the day shift generally operated like a normal cafe, the night shift transformed into a live club with the staff as the performers. The area adjacent to the bar would be made over into a stage, complete with spotlights and live performance equipment.

I looked forward to the shift change. I liked to stay behind just a little later than usual to hear people rehearse. The night shift staff was a whole other talent that I couldn't help but admire. Everyone was more glamorous, more elegant. They dressed with less frills and more velvet, less lace and more class. They were everything I wasn't, basically.

But for the first time I was conflicted with wanting to stay behind and wanting to go; and it all had to do with that silly letter from yesterday. I wanted to see if there would be another letter today, once that person realized that someone had read his letter.

It was funny how I had easily assumed the owner of the letter was male just by looking at the handwriting.

When five o'clock came around, I opted to dally for just a few minutes, staying behind on the pretense of helping the night shift set up their stage.

"Hatsune-san is staying behind again today?" Leon asked as he stood on the stepladder, erasing and writing up the evening menu. (The menu also changed from morning to evening.)

"Day shift," Big Al, one of the night shift staff, said. He was an imposing man who looked like a cross between yakuza and Frankenstein. He sidled up beside me and pretended to swoon. "What a breath of fresh air. Are you here to listen to me warm up, Miku-chan? Do you have any requests?"

"Hey, Al, stop flirting and do your work," Leon said. "The menu won't write itself."

"Why? You're doing such a good job of it by yourself. Let me spend my precious moments with Miku-chan—ow! You threw chalk at me? What would you have done if it landed on my vest, huh?"

"I have better aim than that. Fifty points to me for getting your forehead."

"Get down here, old man, I'll show you fifty points!" Big Al stomped behind the bar, leaving me to set up the microphone stand in relative peace.

Everyone seemed to be running late this evening, though. Just as I finished up, the women staff of the night shift arrived, rushing to the changing rooms at Boss's scolding. I wouldn't have time to stay behind and listen to them if I wanted to make it in time for the train, and the one after it wasn't for another three hours. With a little regret, I shouldered my bag and made for the door, calling out my goodbyes to everyone.

Before my hand could reach the door handle, it swung open, startling me as another night shift employee walked in. There were droplets of rain caught in the strands of his midnight blue hair, and the shoulders of his jacket were dark spotted with raindrops. There were spots of color high on his cheeks, and his eyes were alight with something I couldn't quite name.

Shion Kaito. This was the first time I had ever seen him look like that. He was normally more subdued than everyone else in the night shift, the most gentle of the male staff. Seeing him now, he seemed...excited.

He looked at me, and he smiled. "Take care, Hatsune-san," he said as he walked around me, slipping the strap of his guitar case off his shoulder. "It's starting to rain out there."

Still stunned, all I could say was, "Yes."

He nodded, his smile softening. "Good," he said, and walked further into the cafe while I left.

Outside, the rain was a light yet steady drizzle, kicking up a mist that masked visibility down to fourteen feet at best. Everything was muted, even the sounds coming from the cars. People didn't talk anymore, instead they rushed for the nearest shelter. Instead I heard water; water trickling, water dripping, water splashing. I dug into my bag for my umbrella and unraveled it, lifting it over my head.

Immediately my range of hearing narrowed down to within the tiny dome of my green umbrella, and I stood still for a moment, listening to the frantic beats the rain was making on its nylon surface. If I listened closely enough, I could almost hear the words the rain was trying to say.

Smiling, I set off down the street towards the station. I might not have been able to listen to the night shift rehearse, but I was going to get another letter. Then, remembering how the first letter reacted to water, I started walking a little faster. A soggy letter would be unreadable.

By the time I reached the light pole closest to the intersection, my breathing had turned erratic. Brisk walking in the rain was hard to do. While catching my breath, I ran my gaze over the paper-covered surface of the pole, searching for the simple blank white envelope taped onto it.

I slowly walked around it.

I searched.

And searched.

There was no envelope. I looked at the ground, trying to see if it had fallen. Still no sign of the plain white envelope. Maybe I was looking at the wrong pole? That must be it.

Several poles later, shivering and damp, I carefully admitted it to myself: there was no letter.

I looked at my soaked in boots as I waited for the crosswalk sign to change. What had I been expecting? A genuine letter like that didn't exist anymore. Nobody ever wrote letters anymore, not like that. It had been a prank, and I had fallen for it. I fell for my own expectations.

I, Hatsune Miku, was lonely.

—

End Chapter 1: You are real.

Hello! This is my first time writing for this fandom. Please be gentle with me~!

I'm in no way an expert of everything Vocaloid, so if I mess up somehow with the characters, please let me know and correct me. But I will be using other Vocaloid characters sparingly; this is strictly a Kaito and Miku fic! ...although it will be very Miku-centric from the get-go. Yes, Miku and Kaito are older! :D Yay! This story will hopefully only span 5 chapters. I'm crossing my fingers here.

Ah, a last nonsense note. The store's name _Tête-à-Tête _was actually inspired by Gumi's song _Aitai_. Hee!

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you'll stay with me 'til the end~

Disclaimer: Leon [c] Zero-G, Big Al [c] PowerFX, Kaito and Miku [c] Crypton Future Media. Any names, places, or incidences similar to this story are purely coincidental.

(_071311_)


	2. Two: keep on hoping

Letters to Nobody

Lonely. Loneliness. Alone. Aloneness. One word affected the other. One word was worse than the other.

I was both, and I felt wretched. I woke up to the unpleasantness of a congested nose and achy limbs; and as I stared blearily at the drab ceiling of my bedroom, cataloging my aches and pains, I wondered, 'How could missing a stupid letter make me feel so lonely?' I had many other factors that contributed more to being lonely, yet none of them had ever bothered me before. But this letter...this stupid letter to nobody in particular managed to point out how fragile my illusion of contentment was before shattering it without so much as an 'if you please.'

I sniffled ungainly and struggled to get up, but the fatigue in my limbs and the change in my center of gravity only served to make me dizzier. I flopped back weakly as nausea now accompanied the lurching throb of pain in my temples. Fever-delirious tears gathered behind my closed lids as I struggled to figure out the use of my limbs. Tramping up and down a rainy street to look for a letter seemed like a good idea at the time. After the fact, it didn't seem so smart. Everything felt so heavy.

I breathed a sigh of relief as my hand closed over my phone by the bedside table. Wiping away the useless tears, I clumsily flipped open my phone and dialed the store's number.

"Good morning! This is the Tête-à-Tête cafe," a man greeted.

"Ah," I rasped. "Leon-san?" My throat was dry and groggy. I sounded horrible.

"Speaking," said the man. "May I know who's calling?"

"It's Miku. Can you please put Boss on the phone?"

"Eh, Hatsune-san? Are you all right? You don't sound well."

"I don't feel well," I mumbled. "Please put Boss on?"

I heard the sound of Leon clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth. "Of course, Hatsune-san," he said gently. "One second." For a while I listened to the background noise of people setting up for the day. It almost lulled me to sleep until Boss picked up. "Miku-tan?" she sounded worried. "Leon tells me you're not feeling well. You don't have to come to the shop today if you're sick."

"Yeah," I sighed, hearing Boss's dismay at how bad I sounded. "I'm sorry, Boss, I lost track of time yesterday and stayed out in the rain too long."

"Never mind that," she interrupted. "Do you need anything? I can send one of the girls over to drop off whatever you need."

"No, thank you," I tried to sound as polite as I could with my surly-sounding voice. "I'll be fine. I just need to sleep this off."

"Well, all right." Boss sounded skeptical. "I'll be calling to check on you later."

I answered dutifully before shutting my phone and promptly falling back asleep.

The next twelve hours were spent sleeping, and stumbling around the kitchen making instant ginger congee. True to her word, Boss called to make sure I was taking good care of myself. In the silences of our phone conversation, I could hear my co-workers saying in the background, "Get well soon, Hatsune-san!" It felt nice. It soothed part of the ache I didn't know I had until now. Was it loneliness?

Night came, and I was feeling marginally more like myself. I kept the offending letter in the bottom drawer of my bedside table. Even though I didn't want to think about it anymore, I didn't want to throw it away also. The handwriting was too nice to throw away...and I needed to remember my brief moment of foolishness.

—

I stood before a simple desk, hands limp at my sides, waiting for my boss's OK to work. Though I only missed one day of work, everyone was relieved I was all right nonetheless. Boss, however, still needed some convincing.

"You still look pale," she said, looking me critically up and down. I tried not to fidget in the black maid's dress, but I couldn't avoid brushing the inside of my stockinged knees together under her scrutiny. "Take it easy today, all right? If you start feeling dizzy, you should rest in the back."

"Yes."

"Good. Get out there."

I nodded and left the boss's office, shutting the door with a sigh. I stepped out to the bar, where Leon was drying some dessert bowls and two other staff were hanging about, spinning on the stools and giggling.

"It's about time to open," Leon was telling them. "Why don't you two get up and make yourselves useful?"

"But Len's already sweeping the sidewalk," one of the girls, Rin, pointed out. She flipped her short yellow bob with a dismissive hand. "There's nothing else to do."

"Hey, hey, Leon-niisama," the other, Gumi, leaned forward, cradling her chin in her hands. "Will you make me another carrot milkshake today?"

"How about during lunch break?"

"Yes!" the girl threw her arms up and cheered. Then, seeing me, she leaned forward again. "Hatsune-san! You can work? Oneesama said yes?"

I nodded, walking up to stand beside Leon. Ducking under the bar, I picked up a watering can from one of the cupboards and started filling it with water from the faucet. "Yes, which is a good thing. I don't think I could stand staying in bed all day again."

"Oh, you know you just couldn't stand to stay away from our awesomeness," Rin teased, making Gumi giggle. I smiled, shutting off the faucet. "That, too."

Picking up the plastic can, I rounded the bar towards the seating area, intent on watering the hanging plants. But before I could take one step further, Rin stopped me and took the can from my hands, saying, "Come on, Gumi. We forgot to do one other thing after all." She gave me a wink before heading to the nearest basket, pulling it down and tipping enough water over the leaves and soil. Gumi followed close behind with a rag, wiping up where the water spilled. I turned to look at Leon, who was looking on with a serene smile on his face.

"I have a feeling I'm being coddled," I told him.

"It's probably just your imagination," he replied, beckoning me back behind the bar. "Help me put away these sundae bowls."

If that wasn't a salve to my wounded working pride, I didn't know what was. So I did as I was told. The rest of the day went by like that, with everyone taking on the 'heavy' tasks and leaving me with whatever was left. But I just didn't have it in me to be annoyed with them. They were looking out for me in their strange way. I'd have to make it up to them by working harder next time, that's all.

...which was why, when shift change came around to Tête-à-Tête, everyone was still in the shop.

"You guys aren't being obvious at all," I said to the group trying nonchalantly to look as if they were staying behind because they wanted to. Everyone except Leon was in plainclothes and loitering at the bar while the night shift staff slowly trickled in. The older man was on the stepladder, arranging the overhead menus.

"I told you," Len said disgustedly, tossing his banana peel in the trash and grabbing Rin's hand. "Come on," he said, hopping off the stool. "Let's go to the arcade."

"We really want to stay for the night shift rehearsal though," Rin insisted, slapping away Len's hand and pinching it when he tried again ("Ow!").

"Really?" I asked, an excited smile growing on my face as I looked at Gumi. She nodded eagerly. "That's great! Tell me about it tomorrow, okay?"

"What?" both girls exclaimed, following after me as I headed towards the entrance. "Where are you going?"

"I have to get groceries," I said sheepishly. "I was supposed to go yesterday, but you know..."

"We'll go with you!"

I turned to them, no doubt with a puzzled look on my face. "But who'll tell me about the night shift rehearsal tomorrow if you two don't stay here?"

"Leon-niisama can do it. Right, Oniisama?"

"Yes."

"See?"

"But Leon-san's explanations are so boring," I pointed out. "The last time I asked, he just said, 'Sakine-san and Megurine-san sang together while everyone else did their own thing.' And when I asked him to elaborate, he just said, 'Shion-san tuned his guitar while Kamui-san hummed into his sake.' And when I asked him to elaborate further, he just said, 'They practiced their own songs.' He also conveniently forgets about Big Al! Getting answers from him is like pulling teeth! Besides, it's just groceries. I don't need company."

"Here's what we'll do," Boss said, startling me. She must have come out of her office to see what the fuss was about. She leaned over the bar, pointing at the door. "First person to come inside through that door will accompany Miku-tan to the store." Then she pointed to everyone else. "The rest of you will either keep it down or go home. All right? Good." Her voice held a tone of finality to it, and as the owner and authority figure of the cafe, she had considerable power over her employees. It didn't stop me from protesting, however.

"Boss, I can go by myself."

"What did I say about taking it easy today? Either you accept help or you go straight home while someone else does your groceries for you. Ah, good," she nodded satisfactorily as the door behind me opened, making me whirl around to face the newcomer. "Kaito-kun, Miku-tan needs help with her groceries. Go with her."

He came in again today with raindrops in his hair and the shoulders of his jacket damp with rain. His guitar, safe in its soft cover, hung by a strap over one shoulder. Confused, he looked from me to the boss before saying, "Eh..."

We both stood in a semi-frozen state; he, with his hand still on the door handle, and I, with my own wrapped tightly around the straps of my bag. Our expressions were similar in our helplessness until his sense of responsibility kicked in, and his face smoothed into neutral politeness. "Okay," he said, his hand dropping from the door handle.

"You don't have to," I rushed to say, embarrassed that something like this blew so quickly out of proportion. "Really," I said as he removed his guitar from his back. "It's just groceries."

"It's okay," he said over his shoulder, holding his guitar before him as he continued into the shop. "Let me just put this in the staff room." He slipped behind the bar and disappeared from sight.

I sighed, covering my heated face with cold hands. I looked up a moment later to find the morning shift staff looking at me with dreamy faces. Boss was gone, most likely back to her office. Of course they would be relieved, they probably felt fulfilled in their desire to make sure I was all right. I tried to glare at them, but they just smiled sweetly from their perches at the bar.

Kaito emerged later, guitar-free, and joined me by the door. "It's raining outside," he said, gesturing past the clear glass door to the misty rain on the sidewalk. "Did you bring an umbrella?"

"Yes." I pulled out my small, collapsible umbrella from my bag and paused. "Oh, I don't think we'll fit under this."

"That's okay," he said, turning to the umbrella stand by the door, "we can use one of the cafe's." He lifted one of the bigger umbrellas with the cafe's logo printed on its clear plastic canopy. It was bright red with a black handle. Looking at me, he asked, "Good enough?" I nodded, and returned my personal umbrella to my bag.

"Make sure to come back right after," Leon called. "We're reopening soon."

"Okay," Kaito answered as he held the door open for me, gesturing for me to go first. After calling out my own goodbyes, I stepped out, standing under the store's awning and waited while he opened the umbrella. Grey clouds obscured what little light penetrated between the tall buildings, casting the street into premature twilight. Rain and mist further obscured what normally would have been the mess of urban life. I could almost, _almost_ forget that the streets were dirty. "Where to?" he asked as I joined him under the portable shelter.

"The supermarket on the next street," I said, my voice oddly muffled under the umbrella. I didn't know whether to speak louder or if he heard me just fine. But he must have, because he started leading me towards the direction of the store, deeper into the district and farther from the subway station.

We walked together, side by side, mutually dodging other pedestrians and their umbrellas. It was a quiet journey filled only by the sound of rain. I couldn't help but think that I disturbed his routine by pulling him from rehearsal, and I felt bad. I felt worse when I couldn't even bring myself to talk to him about it, to apologize. I was still reeling from the surprise Boss pulled on me.

We reached the supermarket in relative silence. It carried still, wrapping us in a bubble that separated us from the rest of the shoppers. I was very conscious of his presence behind me as I went from aisle to aisle, loading my basket with instant meals, juice, milk, and pudding. Even more still when he wordlessly took the shopping basket from my arm so I could reach for onions, garlic, and other vegetables. He carried the basket from then on, and laid everything out on the checkout counter while I paid for them. The purchases resulted in two bags, which he carried in one hand while he held the umbrella with the other.

Once outside again, with the rain pelting against our shared umbrella, he broke the silence by asking, "Do you live nearby?"

We couldn't have spent more than fifteen minutes in the store, yet night had fallen unexpectedly on the city. The rain-slicked sidewalk glowed with reflected light from the shop signs; a rainbow of colors mixing on the ground. Looking up at his face illuminated by the lights around him and by the soft red glow of the umbrella's shade, I couldn't help but think that he looked dejected. Up until now, I only saw one side of him; the professional side that called for a polite smile and a gentle manner. Although he was no less polite or gentle, this Kaito was sad. The air around him was heavy with something like disappointment.

I wished I could ask him what was wrong. I wished I could cheer him up. But we were total strangers. Our only connection together was Tête-à-Tête. It would be too presumptuous of me if I tried acting like a friend now, wouldn't it?

But I didn't want to give up.

"No," I said with a small shake of my head. "I have to go to the subway now."

A perplexed frown marred his fine brow as we walked back to the way we came. "But why buy groceries here?" he asked, obviously trying to find the logic in hauling around grocery bags in the train.

I chewed on my lip, looking down at the pavement before me. "Ah.. um.. that store sold the brand of pudding I liked," I said. "The one close to where I live doesn't." Though it was true, saying it out loud sounded so silly, even to me.

I heard his near silent huff of breath, and I looked up to his amused smile. His blue eyes, dark in the inadequate lighting, sparked with humor. His lips twitched as he tried to rein in his truer expression, and said, "I see."

I couldn't help the flush of embarrassment overcoming me. "You're laughing," I said, looking away from him and to the sidewalk. My voice betrayed nothing, and I hoped the red glow of the umbrella's shade would mask the color growing on my face.

"I'm not."

"You are. On the inside."

He kept quiet. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him pursing his lips to avoid smiling. Even while dejected, he was still nice enough to spare my feelings. I felt a smile growing on my own face, and I sighed and gave in. "All right. You can let it out," I said. "It does sound stupid."

"No, not stupid at all," he said. His voice sounded strangled and, with the closeness required when sharing an umbrella, I could feel his arm trembling against the sleeve of my shirt. It was proof of his effort to stay neutral and polite.

My smile widened, embarrassment forgotten as an idea took root. "Well, maybe not," I said. "Pudding is an important part of the food pyramid after all. I take my pudding seriously, you know. You can't imagine how much research I put in to find the perfect pudding with the many failed pudding taste experiments that often resulted in terrible stomachaches; and the hunt for the nearest pudding distributor, which happened to be close to my place of employment. Imagine my surprise and my relief. I have found the perfect pudding! My pudding hard work—which I paid for in blood, sweat, and tears—had paid off. And that's how I came to buy groceries here."

A disbelieving laugh slipped from his mouth, so quickly smothered by the constant pour of rain that I wouldn't have believed it happened had I not been paying attention. "He knows how to laugh," I said approvingly as I kept my gaze ahead of me. I wasn't willing to show him how much of an effort it took me to be candid like that. It was embarrassing, but he laughed. That was the important thing. "That's good."

"I didn't mean to," he said apologetically, coughing. "That was rude of me."

"Relax, Shion-san," I chuckled, looking at him and smiling. "Laughter is good for you."

He looked back at me and smiled in return. The heaviness around him was gone and his expression had softened. His smile was like a warm blanket after a day out in the cold. Seeing him like this, it was easy to figure out why he was part of the night shift.

Neither of us noticed passing by Tête-à-Tête.

We were nearing the intersection before the station; we were nearing the place I desperately wanted to be nowhere near yet. Yet my heart started racing in anticipation as my steps drew me closer to that light pole. When will I stop feeling like this? I was doing so well all day. I didn't want it anymore. I had to keep talking if only to tune out the echoing pang in my chest.

"Thank you, by the way," I said, looking at him and anywhere but the post that was gradually looming closer. "For helping me with the groceries," I added, and forced myself to say the thing I wanted to say earlier. "I'm sorry for taking you away from rehearsals."

I was beginning to pick up the details on the posters and fliers stuck to the light pole. I hoped he would say something...I wished he would distract me. We were ten feet away now. The distance was closing in, and I struggled to keep my eyes averted, focusing on the other side of the pavement. Five feet. Four. Two.

At the last second, despite my conscious efforts, I looked...

...and then we were past it.

"Actually," he said as we stopped at the intersection, waiting for the crosswalk signal to change. "I needed the walk to clear my head. So I should be the one thanking you."

He said it with such a serious face that looked out to the passing traffic that I struggled to keep my calm.

"Oh."

The station entrance was bustling with people, but Kaito was patient and held the umbrella over me while I took on the burden of my groceries.

"Are you sure you're going to be all right?" he asked, watching me hang one bag just before the crook of my arm. "Those bags are a little heavy."

"I'll be fine," I assured him, digging through one of the bags with my free hand. "I've been doing this for a while now." When I got everything situated where I wanted them, I looked up at him with a smile and offered him one of the puddings I bought. "Here, Shion-san, in exchange for carrying my bags for me, and for holding the umbrella."

He blinked at me, then looked down at the chilled pudding cup in my hand. My heart started racing again. "But I thought you loved your pudding," he said.

"Don't get me wrong," I said with a wry smile. "I do. Although we never really talked much before, even when we work at the same place, you did something nice for me today. So I'm sharing my treasure with you. Please take it? I promise it's the best pudding you've ever had."

He looked at me for a moment longer, and I fought the urge to fidget when those eyes met mine. Then those eyes crinkled at the corners, and mirth filled those dark blue orbs. I dared not to look at his mouth, at the smile I knew was growing there. He reached out and took the pudding, looking down at the cover. "Better than the pudding at Tête-à-Tête?"

I looked down at the grocery bag on my arm, fussing with it nervously. "I... I've never really tried anything from the cafe other than the lunch sandwiches," I said quietly, frowning. I wondered why I hadn't sampled anything before. It wasn't for the lack of offers; the patisserie chef was always generous with the things he made, and Leon encouraged the rest of the staff to be taste testers. "For someone who loves pudding so much, I think I may have overlooked it," I mumbled.

"That's a good thing, then," he chuckled, making me look up at him. "You've still got more new things to try."

"Yeah," I said. That was one way of looking at things, right?

He smiled, and led me under the shelter of the station. "Take care on your way home, Hatsune-san." He turned around, paused halfway and gestured to the cup in his hand. "Thank you for the pudding."

I waited, watching his retreating back as he crossed the street with the store's red umbrella over his head. I waited until the rain misted crowd swallowed him from my view. Even still I waited for the crosswalk sign to change twice more, watching and counting the cars drive by.

Only then did I allow myself to raise my own umbrella.

Only then did I cross the street again.

Only then, with my pulse ringing in my ears, did I walk up to that lamp post.

There.

Wrapped in clear plastic.

Taped to the concrete post.

A single blank white envelope waited for me.

—

_Hello again! Are you doing well today?_

_When I found out my letter was gone, I felt so relieved. For a while, I thought that nobody was going to pick it up. But it's okay to have thoughts like these once in a while, because it's thoughts like these that keep me going. Worrying is a part of life, right? A person wouldn't be living life to the fullest if that person never worried about anything._

_But you know what? If you changed your mind set just a little bit, worrying could turn into hoping instead. Hoping is probably a lot more painful, especially when things don't go the way you hoped they would. But it also goes both ways; the relief that comes from hoping makes you feel a thousand times better afterwards._

_So I'm hoping you'll read this letter, too, and I hope you'll feel positive from reading it. We're two strangers taking on the world, right?_

_It's been raining a lot lately, huh? I hope you're dressing warmly, whoever you are._

—

End Chapter 2: Keep on hoping.

I never intended for this story to be riddled with angst. I'm sorry if this chapter seems too down. Did you know I had to look up the parts of an umbrella? I didn't know what the cover-y part was called, and it turned out to be very straightforward: canopy, shade, or canvas. Haha!

Miku isn't good at ad-libbing. At all. Her Hunt for the Best Pudding oration is horrible.

**Morumotto-chi** asked a very pertinent question about the story that I'd like to include here: **Is this story your own idea, or is it a songfic? **It is my own idea (saying it like that is so embarrassing, like saying, 'Yes, I farted just now'). But actually my friend, who is more of a Vocaloid fan than I am, said that this story reminded her of one of Miku's earlier songs: White Letter; in which the item of focus is an anonymous letter and that it makes Miku curious about the one who wrote it.

When I watched the video and read the lyrics, I could understand why my friend made the connection. ….orz

But, no. This story is not based on any songs at all. If you want a soundtrack to listen to while reading, however, I suggest:  
>Glow - Miku<br>Crack - Miku  
>Longing - Miku<br>Aurora - Miku  
>Making Sound - Cindy Santini (it has the same feel as Aurora!)<br>Light Song - Miku  
>Last Smile - Miku<br>When the First Love Ends - Miku  
>Last Night, Good Night - Miku<br>from Y to Y - Gumi's version by t12111 on YouTube  
>Telepathy - Gumi and Gakupo<p>

...because I have those on loop while writing this. I guess you could say these songs have an influence in the tone of this story. Especially the keeno songs (Glow, Crack, Longing).

So to **Luminous Snow**, **hewhodoesnotlogin**, **Morumotto-chi**, **Nelliegirl101**, **Banana**, and **Raven-Raspera**, thank you very much for your reviews! I'm so happy that this story is well-received. I'm blown away by the reviews, the favorites, the story alerts! I hope you'll continue to tell me what you think! Even if you don't like it, I'd still like to know~

Thank you for reading! (Also, I'm sorry for the long note. ;- ; )

Disclaimer: Leon [c] Zero-G, Big Al [c] PowerFX , Kaito, Miku, Rin, Len, Meiko, Luka [c] Crypton Future Media, Gumi, Gakupo [c] Internet Co. Ltd. Any names, places, or incidences similar to this story are purely coincidental.

(_071611_)


	3. Three: please be kind

Letters to Nobody

It sat just off to one corner on a big square plate, its pale yellow-gold sides glistening with drizzled caramel. The caramel drizzle continued along the rest of the square plate, creating a flower petal pattern from the crème caramel center. A light, thin fluff of whipped cream surrounded the pudding, completing the simple yet beautiful presentation.

My mouth watered at the sight of it.

"Oooh," both Gumi and Rin gushed on either side of me. "It's a flower," one of them said.

"It's a daisy according to Pii-san," Leon said from across the bar.

It was Sunday. The hours at Tête-à-Tête were shorter; day shift started an hour later, and night shift ended an hour earlier. One would think that because of this, Sunday would be a slow business day; on the contrary, it was the busiest day of the work week. On Sundays, the following week's menu would be planned and tested. Dishes would be reevaluated, and popular desserts would be served in a different manner. This was all done to keep things interesting and fresh and, more importantly, to impress the customers.

"And the first taste goes to Hatsune-san," Leon said, handing me a small dessert spoon. "It's time you started tasting the desserts. Pii-san is worried that his creations aren't good enough for you. And if he hadn't seen you eat one of the sandwiches he made, Yuu-san would have been worried too."

It was an hour before opening time, and everyone was looking at me expectantly. Although the people in the kitchen were still working, I could see from the corner of my eye the patisserie chef peeking from behind the kitchen door. What was a girl to do when put on the spot like this?

I accepted the spoon. My face was warm; no doubt I was blushing from the unwarranted attention. Keeping my eyes on the pudding, I mumbled, "I didn't want to ruin the pretty desserts. Don't you think this spoon is like a bulldozer?"

The girls on either side of me giggled.

"That's what I thought, too!" Gumi said.

"But you should see if it's as delicious as it looks," Rin insisted.

Peppered with encouragements from both sides, I hesitantly dug my spoon into one side of the flat, circular crème caramel. The spoon slid in, smoothly, with just a little resistance. I swiped at a bit of the whipped cream, as well, unable to resist its allure. Raising the spoon to my lips, I made one last visual assessment before I took the bite. The texture didn't look gelatinous like most puddings looked after a few days in the fridge. There were no bubbles trapped in its body. This pudding was fresh, lightly chilled, and...

My eyes widened slightly.

...so very smooth. The caramel sweetened the whipped cream, and in turn enhanced the subtle taste of the custard. It was magical. It was better than any store-bought pudding. All too soon, it melted away in my mouth and I was all that was left, bereft of its subtle sweetness. I felt like this before, very recently in fact, when I realized how comfortable it was to walk in the rain with someone else...under one umbrella...sharing the same warmth.

I felt the heat flush my cheeks.

"She's blushing."

"How does it taste?"

"Now, now, Pii-san. Don't commit suicide just yet."

I wanted to crawl under a rock. I behaved so stupidly in front of _him_ yesterday that now I probably wouldn't know what to do with myself anymore in his presence. Stop! I should think about more productive things. Like this pudding.

His image came again, unbidden, in my mind's eye. He held a pudding cup in one of his big, elegant hands and asked, '_Better than the pudding at Tête-à-Tête?_'

My heart sank. There was no helping it. He had been popping in and out of my thoughts all of last night and this morning. With my gaze drawn to the square plate, its presentation made no less beautiful by the dent from my spoon, I sighed wistfully, "This pudding has ruined me for all the other puddings in the world. It tastes so good." Why had it taken me so long to try it?

"That's good," Leon said, smiling next to the anxious patisserie chef who had given up all pretense of hiding. He patted Pii-san on the shoulder. "Really good. It's a relief, right Pii-san? You can now rest easy?"

The pastry chef nodded, and smiled at me from across the bar, his face red. I returned it, absently fingering the dessert spoon still in my hand. "Um...may I eat the rest of this? I actually really like pudding...a lot."

"Of course!" Pii-san said, his smile widening in relief. "Please enjoy it."

"And for the rest of our cute maids, a pick of their choice from the dessert menu for another week's testing well done," Leon added, making the girls on either side of me clap their hands with glee.

"The orange madeleines, please!"; "I'd like to have another slice of the carrot chiffon!"

"As the mademoiselles wish."

The tasting session moved on to the rest of the kitchen staff, leaving my companions and I with a sense of privacy. I enjoyed another spoonful of pudding before saying, "So what happened yesterday?"

"We should be asking you that," hinted Rin at my right. She neatly broke a madeleine in half, taking one into her mouth. "Someone nearly missed rehearsals last night. Sakine-san was furious," she said after a while.

"What?" I turned to her, feeling alarmed and guilty. "But he just walked me to the supermarket, and then to the station. We were only gone for less than an hour. Was she really angry?"

"Oneesama calmed her down, don't worry," said Gumi at my left.

"But she started up again when Shion-san came back with pudding," the other girl giggled, her sea green eyes bright with humor. "I think her exact words were, 'You missed our ballad rehearsal for a stupid cup of pudding? Unforgivable!' Her face looked so red that in her red dress she looked like an upright chili pepper. Len and I were trying so hard to hide our laughter."

"She really was worried about that ballad though," the green-haired girl mused.

"Gumi was giggling behind her hand too," Rin added, earning a reproachful huff from the girl in question. "Oh, admit it. It was funny."

"Maybe so, but you would be throwing a fit too if you knew talent scouts were going to be watching you perform."

I forgot myself for a moment and gaped like a fish. "Really? Talent scouts?"

"Yes. Talent scouts were coming to watch them last night. Kamui-san, who sat with us, told us that Big Al was scouted the other night but he declined. Declined! Can you believe it?" On went the gossiping as my co-workers filled me in on last night's happenings; and I realized as I sat there and listened, that even though I sat in on the night shift's rehearsals more often than the other girls did, I didn't know half as much in a few days as they found out in one night.

That bothered me. What was I doing wrong? Was I being too complacent, too content to stay in my own prearranged world of roles and proper gestures to actually seek conversation? Companionship? Change?Would I stay mute until I was spoken to? Would I stay still unless ordered to move? Was I becoming faceless?

Had I unknowingly been swallowed up by anonymity in a big city?

As I watched everyone around me interact with one another, I became aware of the fact that they were all comfortable with each other. There was no polite distance with which they regarded each other. It was a kind of closeness that, as I observed, came out of working together for a long time. Watching them, I wanted to feel that closeness too. Didn't I deserve it? Didn't I work here for just as long a time as everyone else did?

I wanted to break out of my monotony; it terrified me.

Day shift ended. When my co-workers invited me to join them that night to watch the night shift perform, I jumped at the chance to spend time with them; to prove to myself that I actually had a life and _lived_ it. We were all motioning towards the shop entrance, making plans to meet at seven o'clock, when Boss came out of her office and called out from behind the bar.

"Not so fast, you four," she said amid mutual groans of grudging consent. "We've got some new equipment that needs setting up. We need all the extra hands we can get."

It turned out that Boss was right, of course. To make room for the new live performance equipment, the older, heavier equipment needed to be put away in their boxes and into the waiting cargo van to be sold or recycled. During that time, the night shift trickled in and helped out. I tried not to look towards the front of the shop every time someone came in, but my eyes always seemed to betray me at the last second. Each time I lost the struggle, I silently cursed myself for my transparent eagerness to see Kaito again.

"...ku-chan?"

I blinked at Big Al standing in front of me. I was supposed to be helping him pack one of the bigger monitors. "Sorry," I smiled apologetically, and ran the tape down the top of the box to seal it.

"You looked out of it for a moment," Al commented, shifting the box to make it easier for me to tape the sides as well.

"I was just thinking."

The sound of sliding adhesive tape filled the silence for a moment. My gaze was drawn to the man's hands. They were big, work-roughened hands with thick knuckles. A scar ran down the side of his left index finger, the skin puckered white from age. His fingernails, though cut short and blunt, were clean and healthy. His hands were hands that had been through a lot in life. Looking at mine, pristine and clean with no calluses, I couldn't help but feel inadequate. If a person's life experiences could be measured by the state of that person's hands, I wouldn't have done as much as Al had.

I pushed the finished box aside and started putting together another. "Hey, Al-san?"

"Hmm?" he asked, lining another big speaker with bubble wrap.

I kept my eyes on the box, methodically folding the bottom flaps and taping them shut. "Were you really scouted?" I flipped the box over, so Al could put the monitor in.

"Yep. You heard about that, huh? I didn't take it though."

Here was the source of my confusion. "Why?" I asked. "You could have had a big break."

"I like it here," he said simply. "The food's good, the people are great, and I don't have to travel. I got everything I need here. Why fix something that ain't broken?" He flipped the box lids close, and I taped them in place. "Besides," he added as he shoved the packed box towards Len and Rin with their dolly. He straightened up and gave me one of his roguish grins. "The women would miss me."

Big Al was truly content; it was something I couldn't easily say for myself.

"Hey," someone called from the door, "was that the last box?"

"Yep," Al called back and turned to me with a big smile on his face. "I can't wait to try out the new system. You'll be coming to watch us tonight, right?"

"Yeah," I smiled. "The rest of the morning waitstaff are coming, too."

"Really? You're coming?" said a sanguine voice behind me, sending a shiver of delight down my spine.

I turned, and there he was. Kaito. Unlike the past few days, his clothes and hair today were dry. His midnight blue hair, even dry, made me want to see if it was as soft as it looked. The way the ends of his fringe hung over his eyes made me want to reach up and brush them aside. ...and thinking such things in the first few seconds of seeing him made me feel like a pervert. I nodded mutely to him.

He smiled, and waved to Big Al as the man started towards the changing rooms. Looking back to me, he said, "That's good. I get to serve you tonight."

The mental images those simple words produced made my mind go blank for a second. I had never even thought about how it felt like to be waited on by a good looking guy; to have him look at only me, to have him do things for me... "You're...ah...you're not performing tonight?" I managed to ask.

"I am," his grin widened. Around us, people were exclaiming about the shiny new things. He seemed even more excited than Big Al was about the new gear, if the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other was any indication. "Will you be staying 'til we open?"

I shook my head and motioned to my bag sitting on one of the bar stools. "I'm going home for a bit."

"Ah," he straightened up as he followed behind me. "Then I'll walk you to the station. Would that be okay?"

"Oh no, you won't," a woman with a rich chestnut brown bob said, reaching across the bar to snag one of Kaito's ears between her fingers. ("Ow, ow, ow! Meiko-san!") She yanked him by the ear; and he had no choice but to follow, leaning awkwardly over the bar on his side. "Shion Kaito, you are not skipping out on rehearsal tonight or so help me, I will hold your guitar hostage and trash your amps." She caught my eye and, with a wicked grin, winked at me. "Go on, Miku-chan, I've got this truant to discipline."

"Meiko-san, it really hurts!"

"Good!"

I bit my lip to hide a smile, and waved at them on my way to the door. I was both disappointed and relieved that I wouldn't have to walk with Kaito. Sure, we wouldn't be able to freely talk with each other, but this way I wouldn't have to be secretive about stopping by the light pole before the intersection either.

A happy grin touched my lips as I spotted the white envelope in the same place as before. It flapped eagerly against the tape binding it to the concrete post as the wind picked up. The free end pointed upwards, drawing my eye to the clear, orange-colored sky promising a rain-free evening. I turned my attention back to the letter and, after carefully taking it from its anchor, stored it in my bag to read later.

Yesterday's letter was so silly that it made me smile when I read it. Whoever wrote it must have been feeling as anxious to see it received as I was to receive it. As I followed the steady stream of people into the station, I thought again about that person with the beautiful penmanship. Where could he be now? What was he doing right this minute? Was he checking the light pole to see if his letter was received?

Was he in the train with me right now?

That last thought made me glance around the humming compartment. Everyone was mostly silent; the only sounds coming from the air rushing against the outside of the train, and the occasional cough and murmur of someone from a distance. The people closest to me were engrossed in their own business, and the people who met my gaze just as quickly averted their eyes elsewhere. Anonymous.

This train was full of anonymous people. What were the chances that they would remember the person standing or sitting beside them, much less remember what they looked like or what clothes they wore?

I could understand why that person started writing letters to nobody. If he also experienced this every day and was bothered, he would try to do something about it. He would try to stand out. He would write a letter to nobody, just to see if someone other than himself felt the same way. Could he be as tired of monotony as I was?

The silence of my apartment greeted me as usual, but with the evening ahead on my mind it didn't bother me very much this time. I popped an onion bun into the microwave for a quick dinner, and showered.

Picking clothes turned out to be a hassle. With the weather channel predicting rain later tonight, I found it hard to dress nicely and be prepared for rain at the same time. In the end, pressed for time, I settled for a ¾ sleeve off-shoulder gray dress, black leggings and cream ballet flats. My feet would be wet, and my flats would be ruined, but they were old anyway. I grabbed the first jacket my hand closed on, which thankfully turned out to be an oversized thigh-length cream cardigan, and barely made it to the train.

Tête-à-Tête at night was a buzzing meeting place for people out looking for a good time, good food, and good music. Its patrons spilled out to the sidewalk where they loitered and smoked within earshot of the music pouring out of the shop's open door. After much maneuvering and rushed apologies, I slipped inside the packed establishment.

The atmosphere was entirely different; it was almost like slipping into a parallel universe. While the shop during the day was relaxed and light, at night it was charged with lively energy and conversation. People lined the walls where they couldn't get seats, and the bar was full as were the tables. Up on stage sat Kamui Gakupo on a stool, crooning about a rendezvous at the dance hall.

My gaze roved over the people seated at the tables, trying to spot a group of familiar faces in the dim ambient lighting. I almost missed Rin's call had it not been for her standing up and waving at me. They were sitting around a table in the corner, slightly removed from the rest of the crowd giving them a vantage point of the floor and stage. I smiled in relief and made my way over to them.

"You made it!" the yellow-haired girl said by way of greeting. Smiling and scooting aside to reveal the extra chair she had been half-sitting on. Len nodded at me from the other end of the cluster, and Gumi waved happily at me. "You missed Megurine-san's opening number," she said as I slung my cardigan over the back of the chair and settled in. "It was very dramatic. It packed the place!"

"I can see that," I said as I looked around again. "Kamui-san is doing a good job of keeping them in their seats too."

"Are you kidding? Did you notice that all the tables closest to the stage have been taken over by women?" I laughed when I saw it was true.

Rin and Gumi kept up a steady stream of chatter, interspersed with Len's grudging retorts. They were discussing the difference between the old sound system and the new one. I did my best to involve myself, and I found that it came naturally to me.

"Sorry for the wait!"

I looked up to find Kaito hovering near our table, carrying a tray of drinks and a plate of what looked to be some assortment of finger foods. He had changed out of his street clothes and was wearing the night cafe's uniform. He had on black dress shoes and a pair of dark pinstriped slacks. His shirt, neatly rolled up to the elbows, matched the color of his hair. It made his eyes brighter. A pinstriped vest went over the shirt, neatly buttoned, and kept his thin black tie in place. The only thing untouched on his person was his hair; still slightly messy, still partly veiling his eyes.

Those eyes met mine and crinkled at the corners. He nodded at me slightly in greeting, and I found myself smiling at him. "All right," he spoke to everyone at the table, even though his eyes remained on me. "Two house beers, a C-Bomb, an Agent Orange on the rocks—light on the vodka, and a complimentary serving of snacks." A murmur of thanks went around as he served the items ordered. To me, he said, "Will you be having anything, Hatsune-san?"

I was the first to look away, and instead observed my co-workers fiddling with their drinks. They each were a little too focused on not paying me any attention, which meant that they _were_ paying attention. I felt my face warm, and I looked back at Kaito, who was still looking at me. "Um.." I said helplessly. "I'll have whatever you suggest."

His mouth quirked at the corners, and in the low light I could see a shadow of a dimple forming on his right cheek. "I know just the thing," he said. He excused himself and smoothly weaved his way around the crowd, holding his now empty tray under his arm. I stared after him, appreciating the cut of his slacks.

"You're drooling," Rin whispered in my ear, startling me. I leaned away from her, covering my ear; my face hot with embarrassment. She grinned. Gumi was smiling behind her hand, while Len's expression was caught between amusement and disgust.

"It's not like that," I said lamely.

Up on the stage, Gakupo finished his number, and the tables closest to him burst out in wild applause.

"Sure," Rin said blithely, taking her shot glass and dropping it in the larger pint of her drink. Len made the appropriate sounds of explosion from behind his beer glass, much to his sister's amusement. "Then I guess it doesn't matter much to you that he asked about you a while ago," she said after taking the proprietary first sip.

"He was just wondering where you were because you weren't with us when we came in," Gumi said.

"Way to ruin the suspense, Gumi," Rin grumbled.

"It's not nice to leave Hatsune-san hanging," she protested.

Then, as if on some hidden cue, they turned to me with speculative gleams in their eyes. "What really happened yesterday, Hatsune-san?"

I sighed wearily. They had been asking me the same thing all day. "If you're going to interrogate me, you may as well call me Miku."

"Really?"; "This is the first time—!"; "Are you the real Hatsune-san?"

I reached over for one of the finger foods and stuck it in my mouth to stop talking. Maybe it was too soon for me to say something like that. As I chewed, I watched Gakupo gently extricate himself from his fans to go back to work.

"You can't keep chewing on that peanut forever, you know."

I groaned and swallowed, saying, "We just went to the grocery store, bought groceries, and went to the station. I gave him pudding in return for his help."

As expected, they burst out laughing. "He got a lot of heat from Sakine-san for coming in with that pudding," Len gasped, wiping at the corner of his eye. "He said it was a special treasure."

Again, as if they made some mutual connection, they turned to me—no, they _leered_ at me. "Is it safe to say that there's something going on between you and Shion-san?" Rin asked sweetly.

"There's nothing going on," I automatically said, hoping to high heaven that my face wasn't as red as it felt. "Yet," Rin added much to everyone's amusement. "It's sweet, though. The past few days you've been more friendly to us. Heck, you're even out with us right now. Whatever's going on must be good."

"We're happy for you, Hatsu—Miku-san," Gumi said shyly.

"So we've got your back," Rin finished, raising her glass over the table. The other two followed. "To Miku-san's budding love life!"

"Cheers!"

Just like that, I earned three friends.

Big Al was setting up on the stage when Kaito returned with his tray. On it was a cocktail glass filled with something green spotted with brown flecks; and on the lip of the glass was what looked like an Oreo cookie. He smiled as he presented it to me. "Sorry for the long wait," he said as he laid down a napkin under the cocktail. "This is a Frozen Grasshopper. It's minty and chocolatey. I had Kiyo-san mix in some chocolate chip mint ice cream for you since I'm not too sure how you feel about chocolate and liquor. The ice cream should mask it a bit more."

Then, with a graceful hand, he set down a small plate of cookies to go with the drink.

"It looks like dessert," I said, lifting the glass to my lips and taking a small sip. It was creamy, with the cooling freshness of mint and the underlying bite of alcohol. "It tastes like spiked dessert," I added with a small laugh. I smiled up at his relieved face, "Thank you, Shion-san. I like it."

"I'm glad," he smiled, folding his empty tray under his arm. "It's actually a dessert beverage. It's my favorite." He looked over his shoulder, and turned back, smiling apologetically. "Al-san needs me onstage. Will you be needing anything else?"

We all shook our heads and wished him good luck. When he left, I was showered with teasing remarks and kissy faces which quieted down when I bribed my co-workers with cookies. They immediately regretted taking the bribe when their drinks turned more bitter after eating something sweet. Revenge might be petty, but it sure was amusing.

Kaito had joined Big Al onstage, carrying an acoustic guitar and another stool. After plugging in the amplifier cable to his guitar, he sat behind Al, close to the edge of the stage. He rapped his hand against the hollow body of the guitar; once, twice, thrice. Al took a breath.

"_Ain't no sunshine when she's gone._"

—

"No wonder Al-san was scouted. His voice reaches out to people."

"Yeah, although I would put it more like his voice grabs people by the ears and makes them listen. Or else."

I smiled, dangling my legs off the bar stool. It was a little after eleven; Tête-à-Tête emptied reasonably fast once the closing bell rung some time ago. Only a skeleton crew of staff remained, cleaning up after a profitable night, and the last one left just a few moments ago. Kaito had drawn the short straw, and had to stay behind to wait for everyone to leave before he could lock up the store.

As for me, I wasn't allowed to go home by myself, because the streets were dangerous at night for a woman to walk home alone; a fact played up by my three co-workers before they left. Kaito practically insisted that I wait with him until he could escort me home. A part of me was secretly thrilled by the idea while another part was mortified. Both emotions produced more or less the same effect: butterflies in the stomach.

"He was actually just 'powerful' in his first number," I commented. "In fact, you were the one who made everyone listen. _Or else._ You were amazing."

Kaito had rapped his hand against the hollow body of his guitar. It was a slow, gentle rapping, but it rang throughout the store and caught everyone's attention. He had alternated between giving Big Al a beat to sing to and a guitar accompaniment. It had been a very bluesy affair. It had given me goosebumps. Al's soulful voice and Kaito's guitar were a heady combination.

That blue-haired man currently had his back to me as he flipped chairs onto the tables. "Ah," he said lightly. He was out of his uniform now, and back in his street clothes: navy sneakers, dark denim jeans that made his legs look longer, and a long-sleeved shirt that fit him to a T. His leather jacket, mostly white with a thick blue stripe running down the sides and the arms, was slung carelessly over the bar close to me. Its small upturned collar was also blue. The zipper had been yellow, once upon a time. The jacket was old and well-cared for.

As he set the last chair upside down on top of the table, he turned to me with a smile. There were two spots of color on his cheeks. "That's the last of it," he said. "How about you, Hatsune-san? Do you sing?"

I looked down at the closed toes of my flats, shrugging. "I never tried."

"Didn't you ever sing when you were younger?" he asked as he put on his jacket and grabbed the case that housed his electric guitar. (He had been just as good on it as he was on the acoustic.) I hopped down from the stool, taking the straps of my bag in hand and followed him to the front of the cafe. Along the way, he turned off all the lights.

"Well, yeah. But that's different."

"How?" he asked, holding the door open for me to get through. "Singing is still singing."

"I was younger back then. Voices change." He made a noncommittal hum.

Outside, the air was much cooler. I drew down the sleeves of my loose cardigan, letting them cover my knuckles, and looked around. The street was nearly empty. I could hear the tread of tires from cars in the distance. All of the shop fronts on the street were dark and closed, and the sparse amount of people passing by were headed home. I looked up to the sky and I could see the distant sparkle of stars.

"It's so different from the daytime, isn't it?" he asked behind me.

"Yeah," I said. "I can actually hear things individually instead of hearing a jumbled mess."

We were speaking softly, as if to speak any louder would break the tranquility of the street at night. Our footsteps were the most audible thing as we made for the train station. It was a new experience for me; like discovering a hidden track in an old CD I had been listening to for years, only just realizing it was there.

The station itself was almost empty. We boarded the train when it came on time.

"Hey, Shion-san."

"What is it?"

"I've never heard you sing by yourself before, why is that?"

He shrugged, looking ahead of him. Our reflections stared back at us from the window, and from there his eyes met my reflection's, while mine met his. The compartment we were in was empty, and we could hear the slight rattle of the train on the tracks as it sped towards my district.

"I don't like singing alone," he said. "I prefer being backup and accompaniment over all."

"But why?" I persisted, willing myself to try and understand.

He pursed his lips in a pensive manner. To give him his due, he actually thought about it. "Have you ever noticed, despite being a 'solo' singer, a solo singer has backup voices?"

"Yes," I frowned slightly, "to help with harmony."

"Solo singers aren't ever singing solo," he said. "If they do, they can't sing about love and being with someone and being happy without sounding completely alone and lonely. That would be ironic, because songs like those are supposed to make people feel good. The songs you hear where, truly, only one person sings sound very lonely. That's because they are. Humans can perceive that, and it scares them. That's why the sad songs are usually sung alone. That's why Al-san's singing is so powerful. When he sings alone, especially about topics like loneliness and heartbreak, the lyrics come to life in his voice. When people listen to it, it affects them that much strongly. Ah...I'm not sure I'm explaining this right." He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, looking to the side.

"No," I said, the butterflies intensifying in my stomach. "I understand it. You don't like sounding lonely, and you don't like to make anyone sound lonely either."

"Something like that," he said dismissively. He shifted in his seat. He was embarrassed.

"So why don't you have someone back you up?" I asked.

He shrugged again. "I knew early on that my voice isn't made to sing lead. Mine is a voice more suited to enhancing the voices of others."

"That's not true," I frowned.

"Hush, let me be modest," he insisted, making me smile a little. "I'm not comfortable singing lead. But I think you would be, Hatsune-san. I'm trying to imagine how you would sound...and I think you'd sound beautiful."

I felt my face flush under the gaze of his reflection. He seemed so solemn and sure of it that I felt that I could almost believe him. I lowered my eyes. We spent the rest of the train ride in relative silence, but his presence beside me was as loud as a claxon. I didn't feel alone.

The rain didn't start until we were walking up the open air stairs to my apartment floor. We both turned to watch my darkened neighborhood glow dimly with mist. I used to look out over this neighborhood at night and think of how sad it seemed. Maybe it was because of the present company, but at that moment, it looked beautiful to me.

"Ah," he said. "I didn't bring an umbrella."

"You can borrow mine," I said, reaching into my bag to pull out my small umbrella. I offered it to him. "You hardly go around with an umbrella, Shion-san."

"I live close to the cafe, so I can just run," he said in a matter of fact way as he gratefully accepted the small tied bundle.

"That sounds suspiciously like laziness."

His chuckle sent a thrill through me.

The rain was falling in earnest when we reached the third floor; and when we reached my door, he grinned and chuckled again. "Third street from the station, third building on the street, third door on the third floor," he explained to me when I asked. "The universe is trying to tell you something here, Hatsune-san."

"That three is a magic number?"

"Haha!"

I was glad he was the kind of person who found things like that amusing. I couldn't help but smile with him. "Thank you for walking me home, Shion-san. You didn't really have to."

"It was no problem," he smiled in that way that made his dimple show. "You should take more care of yourself. It isn't safe to go around alone at night." He looked to the side for a moment, and added, "So if you need to, let me know, okay? So I can escort you."

I felt the butterflies simultaneously stand still for a few heartbeats before exploding into a frenzy. I fidgeted with my keys, suddenly finding them interesting. "Ah...yes. I—ah...um...yes." I bit my lip to still my mouth, taking a deep breath to at least say something useful.

"Take care on your way home, Shion-san."

He smiled, and gestured to the umbrella in his hand. "I'll return this tomorrow," he said. "Goodnight, Hatsune-san."

Inside the safety of my apartment, I allowed myself to slide down the door to the floor and sink my burning face into my waiting hands. "_Let me know, okay? So I can escort you,_" I mouthed silently into my palm. Did it mean what I thought it meant?

I got up and kicked off my shoes, removing my cardigan as I moved to the living room. Not bothering with the overhead light, I flicked on the table lamp and curled up on the couch. The plain white envelope sat illuminated on the coffee table where I left it earlier. It beckoned to me enticingly, asking to be opened.

There was something about an envelope that made one want to know the contents inside. Borne from years of human conditioning, I leaned over and lifted the thin package, opening it and pulling out the quarter-folded sheet of white paper.

Like the two letters before it, this letter was no different; neat, clean, carefully penned. My eyes danced across the page, taking in its message. My lips parted. By the time I finished reading, the paper had fallen to my lap, and I was staring blankly at it.

_Hello! You gave me a little scare for a while!_

_I had to write immediately when I saw that my letter was received again. I was so happy. This night, as I write this, was one of the best nights I've had in a while because you see...there's this girl. There's always a girl, isn't there? Ah, I'm a man. I probably forgot to say that. Personal details are usually unimportant in letters like these, aren't they? But this girl._

_You know how fate is like? Fate dropped me the best opportunity to spend time with her._

_She talked to me today. We only ever see each other at one point in the day, and the most we've ever exchanged were greetings. But she actually talked to me today. I was worrying about the letter and I was distracted. Somehow, she noticed it and made me feel better. She basically distracted me from my distraction. Isn't it funny how things turn out like that?_

_She was so kind to me, and one thing she told me reminded me of this; my letter-writing. She noticed that she and I had never had a conversation before even though we worked in the same place. Do you have a co-worker like that, I wonder? If you talked to them, you might be surprised at how interesting they can be._

_I hope I get to speak with her again. I hope you'll continue to cheer me on by receiving my letters._

Sundays were busy days. I leaned back and laughed.

—

End Chapter 3: Please be kind.

For curiosity's sake, here's what the cocktails are made of and their general taste. **If you're underage, please don't try this until you're old enough to think for yourself and your mind is not in the hands of your peers. Seriously.**  
><span>C-Bomb<span>: a shot of Cointreau [bitter orange liquor] dropped into a pint glass of Red Bull [skittles and nail polish]  
><span>Agent Orange<span>: one part vodka and three parts organic carrot juice [carrot-flavored paint thinner]  
><span>Grasshopper<span>: equal parts mint liquor, chocolate liquor, and fresh cream (mint ice cream optional) [ice cream flavored toothpaste and rubbing alcohol]

Funny brainstorming connection: "Here's where she meets Prince Charming; but she won't discover that it's him 'til chapter three!" — Belle, _Beauty and the Beast_ [c] Disney

I'm happy that people can relate to this story. Most of us have been there before, after all: creeping loneliness, a startling realization, an attempt to reach out to someone. I very much enjoyed reading about what you thought, **kagaminevii** and **Banana**!

Also, in the last chapter, **Luminous Snow** pointed out that the umbrella scene was reminiscent of the supercell song, _Melt_. When I watched the video and read the lyrics, it turned out to be creepily accurate in some parts. I had a _holy crap_ moment.

Thus I'd like to thank the following people who took the time to write about their appreciation of this story: **Luminous Snow**, **Samuikokorohime**, **kagaminevii**, **Banana**, and **Nelliegirl101**. You rock my flip-flops! I'd also like to thank those who added _Letters_ to their favorites and alert list! You keep me going! ;u ;

For anyone curious, I had Miku's _Cardioid_ on loop while writing the going-home scene. I also doodled Miku's ( **i53 . tinypic . com / b865vc . jpg** ) and Kaito's ( **i54 . tinypic . com / 1z2mz35 . jpg** ) work uniforms. Please remove the spaces and ignore the derpy faces.

Thank you for following me to the heart of this story. I hope you'll continue! ...I'm sorry again for the long note. ;_ ;

Disclaimer: Leon [c] Zero-G, Big Al [c] PowerFX, Kiyoteru [c] AH Software, Kaito, Miku, Rin, Len, Meiko, Luka [c] Crypton Future Media, Gumi, Gakupo [c] Internet Co. Ltd. Just a Game ver. Gakupo [c] Pufufu (original Gumi song by takamatt). Ain't No Sunshine [c] Bill Withers (Big Al never gets to do the seriously good songs for his voice ;c ; people make him sound like Kermit the Frog). Any names, places, or incidences similar to this story are purely coincidental.

(_072111_)


	4. Four: but most importantly

Letters to Nobody

What were the chances that another person just happened to be cheered up by a co-worker, whom he'd never spoken with before, two days ago? What were the chances that that same person passed by that particular street every day to get to work? The chances were ridiculous to the point of impossibility. I couldn't wrap my mind around it. The coincidences involved in getting from when I found the first letter that day to now were just...phenomenal.

"Miku-tan, customers!"

"Ah, yes!"

It shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have picked up that letter, because it was just impossible to think that the owner of that beautiful penmanship was someone working at Tête-à-Tête all along. It was even more impossible that I just happened to start spending a little time with him.

'_The universe is trying to tell you something here, Hatsune-san._'

Impossible. Just impossible.

_You know how fate is like?_

But I could honestly see him as the type to believe in something like fate. His ideals in his letters were so untainted that if I hadn't seen the practical side of him at work, I would have thought he was naïve. He believed in fate, for crying out loud. No, it couldn't be him. It just couldn't.

'_I'm trying to imagine how you would sound...and I think you'd sound beautiful._'

A shaky, disbelieving laugh bubbled out of my lips. It was impossible!

"What a creepy laugh," Len said beside me, startling me out of my scrambling thoughts. Lunch hour at Tête-à-Tête finally registered in my consciousness with light chatter and the clinking of tableware. The scent of ground coffee beans permeated the air. I stood with the yellow-haired man behind the bar, both of us waiting on our respective orders to serve.

"I don't remember how I got here," I said uncertainly, looking around. I tried to recall my steps, to remember what the customers ordered, but I only remembered where their tables were.

"Yeah, you were pretty out of it," Len said, confirming my thoughts. Though he was talking to me, his eyes were tracking his sister's movements across the cafe's floorspace. He seemed very protective of her. "What's the matter? Last night didn't live up to your girly expectations?"

"That's not it," I said, my fingers brushing along the outside of my serving tray.

"You were daydreaming then?"

"Not really."

"Well, good," he said, straightening up as he received the ready dishes for his table. "You're a practical person, Miku-san. I'd hate for you to fall into a girly statistic just because of a guy."

I watched him go and felt more confused than ever. If I was a practical person, I wouldn't even be in this kind of mess in the first place. No practical person would even think of picking up an unaddressed letter off the streets. No practical person would even think about liking someone after only a few meetings. No. I wasn't a practical person at all.

I really was starting to like him. I wouldn't kid myself by saying that the attraction wasn't there. Tête-à-Tête only employed capable, good-looking staff; that was its only bias. Kaito, to me, had a simple kind of handsomeness. The two things that really stood out about him were the color of his hair—a very deep, midnight blue—and his kind blue eyes that added to his looks. The rest was...well...himself as a person. That was when I probably started liking him: when I started to see the person behind the face.

I was hopeless. I wanted to know more. I wanted to see how a person like him could write such weird letters. ...assuming that he wrote them, of course. I still couldn't be sure. Still...

The rest of the day passed with similar occurrences of missed time. My body was on autopilot, being so used to the job that it didn't mind that my mind had disengaged from overseeing its activities to focus entirely on other things. If I was being honest with myself, I seemed almost mechanical.

There were some days when I scared myself a little.

I came back to myself in the changing rooms, my left hand holding the door to my open locker and my right holding the wire hanger that held up my uniform. A glance at the watch around my wrist told me my shift was over. I hung up my uniform.

"Hey, Miku-san."

"Yes?" I hooked my fingers around the straps of my bag and turned, lifting it out of my locker, and closed the door. Before me stood Rin and Gumi, both also out of their uniforms and in their street clothes. "Is something wrong?" I asked when they peered at me for a moment longer.

"Just making sure you're really there," Gumi said with a relieved smile. "You've been 'gone' all day."

"Oh," I said, surprised. "You noticed?"

"Of course. We're not blind, you know. What we'd really like to know is why you were..." Rin gestured to me with a short sweep of her hand, "...like that."

I self-consciously shouldered my bag. "Oh. I just had something on my mind."

"Obviously," Rin sighed, her manner exasperated. "You know, instead of keeping it to yourself, you could talk to us about it."

"Unless you don't really want to," Gumi hastened to add, lightly nudging the yellow-haired girl. "We just want you to know that we're here for you if ever you need someone to talk to."

I stopped myself before I could say something insensitive like, '_But I've managed well by myself until now, so there's really no need._' Watching them fidget, it must have taken a lot out of them to say that to me. It made me wonder just how unapproachable I had become. I brushed it from my thoughts, saving it for later.

"Actually, I do have a question," I admitted to them.

"Yes?" they leaned forward eagerly. I would have smiled under normal circumstances at their cuteness, but...

"Do you believe in fate?" I asked.

"Yes!" Gumi said.

"No," Rin said.

"I don't either," I said with a slight frown amid the green-haired girl's moue of disappointment. "But some things have been happening that's too coincidental to be natural...you know?"

"Is this about Shion-san and last night? Because we did kind of push you to him at that point, you know, to help you along," Rin said.

"Was it wrong of us to do it?" Gumi asked, wringing her hands in front of her.

The door to the changing rooms opened before I could respond; and the two female night shift employees sashayed in, bringing with them the smell of expensive perfume and the dazzle of class. Greetings were exchanged, and our conversation moved outside to the bar to give the two women their privacy.

"It's not that, exactly," I said once we settled on the bar's stools. My fingers were restless, playing with the straps of my bag on my lap. "Um...is a guy reliable if he starts talking to you about fate and the universe?"

On either side of me, both girls snorted into their hands. "No," they both said vehemently. Rin and I both turned to Gumi in surprise. "But you believe in fate," I said, and saw her blush.

"It's different," she said, frowning at us. "I do believe in fate, but I'm not stupid enough to believe a guy when he starts telling me about fate to prove his point that we belong together or something."

"Well, good," Rin said, sounding eerily like her brother. "For a moment there, I was worried about you." To me, she said, "Gumi's right. Guys like that are worthless. Did he say that to you? Is that why you're so worried?"

"Not really," I told them. "He didn't exactly say that to me." He wrote about it to someone else, only I happened to be that someone else as well. How could I tell them that without telling them everything? This was difficult. I didn't want to tell them everything.

"Which is it?" Rin frowned, leaning an elbow on the bar. "Is he trying to talk you into a weird situation already?"

"No, but..."

"Oh? You guys are still here?"

The only two female staff from the night shift had finished putting on their costumes and had wandered out to the back of the bar. For tonight, each wore a short cocktail dress with a thick petticoat underneath. Beading and satin bunched around their bust and hips. Their legs were encased in black stockings, ending in four inch heels color-matched to their dresses. They each looked beautiful.

"What are you talking about so seriously?" one of them asked, a woman with soft pink hair done up to resemble a rosebud. This was Megurine Luka, popular in the cafe for her soft rock and R&B numbers.

"Just a guy," replied Rin nonchalantly. "Miku-san likes him, but doesn't know whether or not to take him seriously."

I didn't know how she gleaned that from my non-answers, but I was glad she at least understood the gist of my confusion. The classy women leaned their gloved elbows on the bar across us and imparted their version of feminine wisdom with refined enthusiasm. It seemed they were waiting a long time for something like this to happen.

"Well," said Meiko, "if he's only looking for sex and you aren't, you're better off looking elsewhere."

"Likewise, if you're only looking for a one-night stand and he wants something more long-term, it'll also never work out," Luka added.

"So your ideal guy must be someone who feels the same way you do," they both said.

"But it also helps if he's rich."

"And is good-looking."

"And isn't the type to get mad when he has to wait a long time for you, but also never makes you wait for him," they finished with simultaneous nod, giving each other satisfied smiles.

"Love advice from the cafe's two famous serial daters?" Big Al said, coming up from the stage behind us. I glanced around. While we were talking, it seemed the rest of the staff had finished converting the cafe into a live performance lounge for the night shift. "The ones who can't hold onto a relationship long enough to know what it really means?" He laughed; long, big, and booming.

"Shut up, old man!" Meiko said. (Luka giggled behind her hand, "That's true, Al-san!") "At least we make an effort to form relationships. You just have whoever throws herself at you and you dispose of her the day after."

"And _that_ is true companionship," Al grinned predatorily, leaning close to our impromptu huddle. A few strands of his russet hair came loose to rest over his forehead, making him look roguish. "Relationships are just attempts to add 'meaning' to an otherwise animalistic ritual and to differentiate ourselves from animals. Really, we're no different from animals. In fact, we're worse than them; we're even greedier than them."

"Aargh, you brute!"; "Haha! Al-san, you're such a big beast. Wait 'til you get tamed~"

"Ah, Luka-chan, it's so cute that you think it will happen. It never will."

"Amazing," Rin said beside me as the three older people bickered good-naturedly. "It's like seeing a new side of them."

"Isn't it?" Gumi smiled at my other side. "Night shift is so interesting."

"Hmm? Has anyone seen Kaito-kun come in yet?" Luka asked, lifting her chin from her hand. My gaze automatically tracked to the cafe's front door, seeing people walking to and fro beyond the clear glass barrier. I looked down at my watch and gave a start. It was later than it should have been; if I didn't go out now, I might run into him when I visit the light pole for the letter. Although I'm still not sure whether or not he had actually been the one writing the letters, I also still didn't want him to see me pick it up. It was weird; like being caught doing something private and embarrassing.

"That guy...he's going to be late again, isn't he?" Meiko sighed, motioning towards one of the liquor shelves that held the sake. Luka snagged her by the arm, gently dragging her away. "He's probably caught up remixing your ballad," she smiled. "You were particularly harsh with him about it."

"I want perfection in my songs, that's why!"

"Yes, yes."

"Ehh? Shion-san mixes all your songs?" Gumi asked.

"Yeah. He makes all the arrangements."

"That's so cool!"

"All this time, I thought he was a good-for-nothing waiter who can't even sing," Rin said to me with a leery grin. "But it turns out he's been hiding this kind of ability. Who'd have thought, eh, Miku-san? Oneesama never hires useless types, right?"

"Yeah," I smiled weakly at her, only half-listening to Al entertaining Gumi with which songs Kaito composed for them and which popular songs he made instrumental arrangements of. "I need to get something from nearby for a bit," I said as I got down from the stool. "I'll be right back, okay?"

"Sure, sure," Rin waved me away. "We'll fill you in on what you missed in case rehearsal starts before you come back."

"Thanks."

The air outside was chilly from the wind. It also carried with it the faint scent of rain. I looked up to the darkening sky; its rolling clouds glinted purple in the dying sunlight. The people around me seemed to notice the change in the weather as well, and were hurrying to get to where they were supposed to be before the clouds overhead broke open.

I walked towards the intersection, intent on getting the plain white envelope that I knew was waiting for me on that light pole. People crowded before me and behind me, jostling me this way and that as they hastened their pace from the thunder rumbling overhead. It wasn't long now. I could see the concrete post standing tall ahead of me.

"Hey, look. Like, there it is again."

"Eehh, that's soo funny. I wonder what's inside it?"

"It's because it always disappears after a while that makes you super curious right?"

"Totally! Open it, Acchan~"

"Okay, okay. Yeesh..."

No way...

I crept closer, finding two women huddling close to the light pole, their heads together as they read the familiar sheet of white paper in their hands. They were normal women out for a night in town; hair styled to perfection, clothes neat and fashionable. Standing a few feet away from them, facing their backs, I could smell their perfume and their hair spray. I could also see one of them was bottle-dyed blonde, while the other was brunette.

"_I know it sounds silly, but I feel so cheered up that you continued to read my letters._"

"Wah, that's ridic. What if those last letters were, like, thrown away or something?"

"Maybe he keeps track of them, like who reads them and stuff."

"Wow? Stalker much?"

"I know, right? Read this...

"_It makes me wonder now what kind of person you are in real life. You must be a really nice person to continue doing this even though we don't know each other._" Acchan, the brunette, tittered. "This dude's seriously living in like, the last century. Hellooo? Social networking sites?"

"Seriously!"

"_So on Sunday I did get to see her again. She looked so beautiful that night, I wanted to say that to her. But as I thought, I couldn't say things like that so easily. I wonder how my co-workers could say it so casually without feeling awkward afterward._" Acchan gasped. "Hey, this guy doesn't sound so bad. He sounds kinda cute."

"Ugh, cute like a virgin? He's probably fat and ugly. I mean look at his handwriting! It's so neat!"

"No, no, wait! Listen to this," Acchan insisted. "_I forgot to tell you this the other day. This woman, she shared with me her treasure. It was actually just store-bought pudding, but she was so serious about it that it was cute. I could tell she was really passionate about pudding. Because of this, I think she's a person who can appreciate the simple things in life._

"_I got to share with her my own treasure on Sunday. I even felt honored that I got to serve it to her. It's not as simple as hers is, but when she told me she liked it, I felt so relieved. Hey...I don't know when I started to value her opinion. I think I've always been curious about what she thought about things, ever since I first met her years ago._"

"You think that's cute?" the blonde laughed. "You're gross, Acchan! He sounds so perverted!"

"Gross, gross! Now that you put it in my head, I can't think of it any other way! Hahaha!"

They were two people in a bubble of their own world, religiously ignored by the people passing them by. The street was a stream of humanity; a constant flow of anonymity. A person or two might get snagged by something and stop; but the stream would continue around them as if they were inanimate objects. And like inanimate objects, anyone snagged would be ignored and walked around. The stream wouldn't be interrupted.

I hated it. I hated the indifference and the averted gazes. But what I hated even more were these two grown women behaving maliciously like they hadn't yet grown out of their teenage years. Their laughter was abrasive and high-pitched. It was ugly to hear.

I knew I should have just walked on. I should have just ignored them and gone back to the cafe. They got the letter first after all. The letter had no addressee; it was open to anyone. I should have just passed them by like any other anonymous person. But I couldn't. I couldn't forgive their ignorance. Something despicable was starting to grow in my thoughts, and I knew I would regret it if I didn't let them know just how stupid they were being. I had to.

I did.

I joined them.

"How can you say things like that?" The first sentence was always the hardest to speak, but I managed. My voice grew from a soft mutter into a clear and disgusted snarl as I went on. "Saying that he's a pervert. Thinking that he's a pervert. You're the true perverts here for thinking so. Saying such mean things about an innocent person's letter...not only does it make you petty, it also makes you cruel."

I wished I could say I said those things confidently. In reality, my knees were trembling, as were my shoulders and fingers. I was terrified. I was stepping out of the stream and taking notice of things. I was stepping out of my monotony. But I dug my fingernails into the palms of my hands. I didn't care.

"What the"—"How dare you—!"

The two women looked like they didn't know what to say to me, wide-eyed and sputtering indignantly like I had just kicked them in the face. In a way, I probably had. It wasn't every day that a complete stranger just comes up to a person to tell that person off about his or her ugly behavior. But underneath my terror was a burning anger; both for myself and for those women. Because in reality, I also thought that way about the letters. At one point or another, I had also thought they were stupid and creepy. I had perverted the purity of the letter's thoughts with my own expectations of what the person behind them was like.

I was angry, and it helped me to ignore my terror.

"You're being so totally rude butting into our business!"

"You're just a nobody!" said the blonde. "Who do you think you are, talking to us like that?"

"That's right," I said. "I'm nobody. But those letters are written to nobody, and you read them. That makes you nobodies too."

"What kind of stupid reasoning is that?"; "What a freak!"

"And if I'm nobody, then I obviously don't exist to you. Doesn't that make you crazy for talking to people that don't exist?"

"What the heck?"; "Are you a stupid grade schooler?"

I was just...so angry... My mouth couldn't keep up with the things my mind wanted it to say.

"It's people like you that those letters talk about; the self-absorbed people who don't care to notice if a woman is being molested on the train; the kind of people who laugh and don't bother to help if someone trips on the sidewalk," I snapped at them. "It's heartless, selfish people like you who don't deserve to be called human beings!"

"Hatsune-san?"

I froze, only just now realizing how menacing and rigid my stance was. My hands were a pair of tight fists at my sides, elbows slightly bent; my feet were set slightly apart, one set in front of the other. My body was leaning forward. I must have looked like I was about to charge into a brawl. Consciously, I tried to relax.

"Do you know this freak?" one of the women demanded. "She's harassing us!"

"Ah, is that so?" I heard him ask, and shame burned through me. "What happened?"

"Well, you see..."

That voice couldn't be anyone else's. But for the first time, his voice held no inflection; no emotion colored his voice with personality. He didn't sound like himself; which was funny, because I didn't sound like myself either. I was afraid to look back. I knew he was right behind me. I wondered how long he had been standing there. I wondered how much he had heard.

"...then she came up to us and started bashing us for saying those things. She was totally butting into our conversation like it was her business!"

"I see..that's just the way my friend is," he said. "Please forgive her, but you really were mean about the person who wrote that letter, you know. It sounded like he was pretty serious."

"Aaah? Not you, too?" the brunette, Acchan, pouted prettily. "And you're so hot, too," the blonde lamented. "Hey, do you want to go karaoke with us? Leave this weirdo behind and go with us."

The women before me transformed from offended harpies into a pair of coquettes. The change was subtle; a little tilt of the head here, a quirk of the lips there, cock the hips out a little. These were a few of the standard movements Boss had taught her female employees early on. But while Boss's efforts were sincere, these women weren't. Their smiles were empty. Their eyes were cruel and greedy.

It was disgusting.

"So? How about it?"; "Our treat~"

It was disgusting to look at.

"I'm sorry, Shion-san," I said to the man I knew was standing behind me. "You caught me at a bad time, and you had to make excuses for me."

Overhead, thunder continued to rumble. It was closer this time; and the air was sharper with the scent of rain. In an hour or so, the streets would be wet. The lightly curled ends of my hair whipped back and forth against my arms as a particularly strong gust of wind blew along the street.

"You didn't have to," I continued. My voice was surprisingly steady even though my heart was beating fast from the desire to do something violent. "Not to these two trash. They deserve whatever cruelty comes to them for slandering a person who can't even freely defend himself against them. They don't deserve your kindness."

("Ugh—I'm getting sooo pissed!"; "Do you want to be hit?")

I didn't want to turn around. I didn't want to see the look on his face when he realized how much of a cruel person I truly was. With my monotony broken, all the things I normally held back came rushing out like a tidal wave of floodwater destroying whatever it touched. It probably even destroyed the small bridge that started to grow between him and me.

But if it meant defending the honor of the person who had woken me up from my anonymity, if it meant that I could be the voice of this person who had cheered me on with paper kindness, I would do it again and again. I would have no regrets.

Because this was the point of those letters all along: to wake up and take a stand against everyday cruelty, to step outside the norm and actually _be_ a human being. My method was far from ideal, though. I was just human.

"I'm sorry, Shion-san. I'm not such a nice person after all."

—

End Chapter 4: But most importantly...

On Sunday, I woke up and came to a realization: my writing sucked. Long story short, I got discouraged, so I trashed the rough draft I had going for chapter four and read manga for a bit (translation: I ended up reading manga all day while doing laundry).

I wish I can convey feelings and images in my writing as vividly as mangaka can in their drawing. A good manga always gives me goosebumps or moves me to tears. But since we're already on the second to the last chapter, I will continue this train wreck to the very end (meaning: I will not be employing any changes to the story this late in the game).

Hmm...please ignore the above two paragraphs. I'm not feeling very confident, or should I say I'm very confident in knowing that my writing is horrible? If you, as a reader, are moved by this story even just a bit, I'll be very happy. If you aren't, let me know so I can improve myself. (No matter what you say, though, I'll still be working hard to improve.)

I'm a sadistic person. I had the most fun writing about the mean girls. I've been waiting for an opportunity like this to share the unpleasant side of my thoughts about modern-day anonymous letter-writing. The valley girl talk is just a bonus. (Is this my inner Mary Sue coming out? Nah.) This chapter has too much dialogue. I feel annoyed just by looking at it. I'm also terrible with conflict/confrontation scenes. I'm sorry if it's disappointing.

But oh, my dearest friend made me happy. She drew the umbrella scene! *U * I'm so happy that I want to share it with you~ I got her permission to do so. :D I love her so much~~~ I love you, **bonbonchocolate**~~~~~ Best birthday present ever! (Copy, paste, and remove spaces!) **img . photobucket . com / albums / v47 / Crimsonxx / kaitomikumigi . jpg**

Thank you so much for the reviews, the favorites, and the alerts thus far. I feel like I failed you guys, entertainment-wise. I'm really very happy with the reviews, though. Because of your words, **kagaminevii**, **Luminous Snow**, **Makuhita**, **Raven-Raspera**, **TenkaCat**, **pohkeemawn**, **Laniessa**, and **Banana** (auntiee you're so cool ;A ; ), I got to thinking about this story and its lack of romance (even though this is supposed to be a romance story orz). But really, when I think about two characters getting together and being lovey-dovey after just one or two meetings, I want to chop off my own fingers while crying from the grossness of it. Then I reread _Letters_; and it's only been four days so far since Kaito and Miku started interacting more. ...I want to shoot myself in the foot for my stupidity. I'm very sorry for this poorly-planned, romance-less romance story. Please look forward to the last chapter. I'll do my best. ;- ; Again, sorry for the long note.

Disclaimer: Big Al [c] PowerFX, Kaito, Miku, Rin, Len, Meiko, Luka [c] Crypton Future Media, Gumi [c] Internet Co. Ltd. Any names, places, or incidences similar to this story are purely coincidental.

(_072611_)


	5. Five: know that i

Letters to Nobody_  
>for <strong>bonbonchocolate<strong>, whom i adore as a sister i never had_

I thought I couldn't embarrass myself any more than I already had; but every time I thought I had reached the extreme, I ended up doing something much worse than before. Only this time...this time, my embarrassment hadn't been isolated within myself. I had embarrassed _him_ in public, too. _He_ had claimed to know me in front of those women, and I had behaved like a lunatic. I hadn't been thinking. I had run. I had ignored his calls and left him behind with those women. Like a coward who couldn't face up to her actions, I had run away from him.

I was stupid.

The train was more crowded today with people wanting to rush home in time to avoid the rain. I found myself cornered by the door, surrounded by people with their backs turned to me. It suited me just fine. With the adrenaline spent from running, my whole body felt weak. My knees wouldn't stop shaking. So it was fine. I didn't want anyone to see me like this. I hoped that I remained anonymous.

In that corner, listening to the clank and rattle of the train, I couldn't stop thinking about what I just did. Everything sounded so good in my head. At the time, it even made sense. But in the transition from thoughts to words, something went wrong. I messed up somewhere, and now I felt like I had become the bad person.

...and my knees still wouldn't stop shaking.

Halfway into the train ride, my phone trilled with an incoming text message from Rin wondering where I was. I completely forgot that I had agreed to sit in with her and Gumi for today's rehearsals. I sent back an apology, feigning a stomachache that could only be relieved by going home. Rin seemed satisfied with that; and I felt worse. It was very easy to lie to someone in a text message.

The rain started just as I was leaving the station. It was sudden, violent, and all over the place. Like ants whose hill was disturbed, the people around me scrambled for shelter. Big, heavy, cold drops of water splashed one after another on top of my head, shoulders, and arms as I reached into my bag for my umbrella; only I couldn't find it. I had lent it to _him_ the night before.

I was nudged and jostled as I stood in the middle of the sidewalk, a single snag in the rushing stream. People murmured insincere apologies as they bumped into me, neither looking me in the eyes nor stopping, and I said nothing. No words of mine would reach their ears anyway.

I should run, only I was tired of running. I should wait out the rain, only I was too restless to wait. So I walked; and as I walked, I watched everything around me get drenched. The cold rain reacted with the day's heat rising from the ground, and in just a few minutes I couldn't make out much from the growing haze. I breathed a sigh of relief as I left the busy street and its busy crowd, making a turn down the quieter street leading to my apartment. My boots made soft splashes on the wet pavement as I walked, each step becoming heavier as my clothes and hair soaked up more water.

It was cold.

It suited me just fine.

My steps slowed to a casual pace as I walked down the deserted one-way street, leaving behind the muted traffic noise of the main street. In the narrow lane, the sound of rain seemed intense; the noise bounced from wall to wall among the buildings on either side of me. The pitter-patter sounds differed from each surface it struck, creating a cacophony loud enough to reverberate against my chest. I just wished it could also numb my thoughts.

"My goodness, you're soaked through!"

I turned around and saw my landlady hurrying to catch up to me. She held a large flower pattern umbrella over head with one hand while the other carried a simple white plastic bag from the nearby convenience store. She was a middle-aged former schoolteacher, and her previous vocation shined through whenever she found reason to pass discipline unto her tenants like she was doing now.

"Ema-san," I greeted her.

"Miku-chan, you should be more responsible! Come under the umbrella," she chastised as she reached my side. I automatically offered to carry both the umbrella and the bag, apologizing for imposing on her kindness. "You must be shivering, you silly girl! You may live alone but I'm sure you have people who worry about you. What would they think if they saw you like this, hmm? You're already a grown woman!"

"Yes, I'm sorry."

"When you get home, you must immediately take a hot bath. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Eat something hot, too. Okay?"

"Yes."

"What happened to your umbrella?" the matronly woman asked as we neared the apartment building. "You're not usually this irresponsible." It made me wonder just what she did in her free time; she probably observed her tenants' comings and goings so much that she knew everyone by sight alone, but maybe that was just her job as landlady.

The sky was already dark; light poles all along the street were already casting pools of artificial white light along the asphalt. The air up to my knees was muggy, and every so often a cold wind blew that sent the rain pattering diagonally for a while. It was cold.

"I lent it to someone," I said. "That person lives farther away than I do. It's only logical, right?"

"That person is an idiot to forget an umbrella in this season," Ema said bluntly, and I couldn't help but smile a little as I remembered something from last night. "But they're probably worrying about you right now, knowing you have to walk home in the rain without an umbrella. Don't behave so recklessly, Miku-chan."

Was he really worrying about me right now? Could I allow myself to think so?

"Yes."

I walked my landlady to the front door of her apartment on the first floor and returned her things. After staying around long enough to listen to some last-minute lecturing, I squished my way up the stairs to my own unit. My ankle boots were thoroughly ruined after days of rain. Maybe I could go out tomorrow and shop. It was my allotted day off from Tête-à-Tête after all. It would give me something to do.

In the lifelessness of my empty apartment, I dumped my wet bag on the living room floor by the coffee table and turned on the television. After raising the volume, I stalked to the bathroom, stripping out of my soggy clothes. I kept moving. I needed to keep moving. The hot bath was brief, but scalding. In the kitchen, I forced myself to make a proper meal if only to keep my hands moving. If I was in constant motion, I wouldn't need to think so much.

I ate dinner in the living room, spreading out my fare along the coffee table. I ate at the same time as I watched TV; and I watched TV at the same time as I sorted out the blessedly dry contents of my soaked bag. Doing a lot of things at once was the key to blanking my mind. If I did this, I wouldn't have to worry tonight.

Because I didn't want to be alone with nothing but my own thoughts to keep me company. I didn't want to be plagued with that scene in front of the light pole. But the images came anyway, accompanied by dialogue. In my mind, I let them continue on to badmouth the letter; in my thoughts, I saw the possibility of what they could have said to me had I not left as I did. Worse still, I imagined the expression on his face had I turned around to look. Would I have seen pity? Disillusionment? Denial? Anger? Shame? Hatred?

In the end, after exhausting all there was to do in the house, I wearily took out the letters from the bottom drawer of my bedside table and laid them out on the coffee table. My gaze drifted from one to another as I laid them out in a row. They were so carefully written, each missive wanting to be read and understood. Individually, they were so simple; but as I looked at them as a whole, they were beautiful. It was a progression of something growing, like watching a flower gradually bloom. But it was incomplete.

I had called the letters silly. I had silently mocked them while accepting them at the same time. I seemed like the worst type of person; two-faced and pitiful. Yet I wondered about the contents of the letter I missed. I wondered...

What was this I was feeling, this uncomfortable churning in my chest?

—

I woke up the next morning to the sound of more rain. I couldn't see the sky outside my rain-spattered window; instead I saw thick, low-hanging clouds beyond the simple rectangular frame. The clouds were gray. It seemed to leach from the atmosphere and over the city below it, rendering everything colorless. I tore my gaze away from the depressing scene and snuggled under my blanket, brushing my cheek against my pillow as I curled my slowly-waking body against the morning chill. My eyes closed shut on their own, but I couldn't go back to sleep. I wondered what woke me. It wasn't the rain.

The sound came again, a faint trill that came from beyond the bedroom door. I recognized the sound of my cellphone; it was an incoming call. Rainy mornings always seemed to make me lethargic and slower to wake, so I listened to my phone ring out the last few notes of its cheerful ditty before it engaged into voice mail. Lying here in bed, listening to the rain, I wondered who would call me so early in the morning.

My eyes opened as my phone's familiar trills reached my ears once more, and I realized I had dozed off. I groggily sat up and stood, swaying a little as I yawned and brushed my hair back from my face. Someone seemed to want to reach me no matter what. Maybe it was Boss asking me to come in today. It was that possibility that set me into motion. My feet padded softly across the cold wood floor of my tiny apartment, taking me from my bedroom to the living room in just five steps.

The living room was colder than the small bedroom, and I wrapped my arms around myself as I walked further in. Gray morning light flushed in from the glass sliding door, muted by the thin curtains that provided a simple kind of privacy.

There on the low-lying table was the culprit disturbing me from sleep. Its thin screen lit up and flashed an unfamiliar number on display as it rang and demanded to be answered. Just as I reached down for it, the ringing stopped. Whoever had been on the other end had dropped the call. I frowned and turned away, moving towards the kitchen instead. Prank calls so early in the morning were annoying.

After some toast, I prepared to go about my day. My hair was a mess of frizz and tangles from the onslaught of humidity, and I didn't want to bother with it today, so I parted it into two low plaits resulting in two blue-green ropes hanging down my front. I dressed warmly in snug jeans, a long henley, and a zip-up hoodie. A loose knit beanie went on my head to ward off the chill.

I had almost forgotten about my phone until it rang again while I was lacing up my sneakers. Walking back to the coffee table, I looked at the same unknown number flashing at me on the tiny screen, and scowled at it once it stopped again. Should I just turn off my phone, I wondered? I picked it up and scrolled through the call log.

Since six this morning, there had been five calls from the same number. It was now nearing ten o'clock. There was no voice mail, no mail either.

With one last glance at the letters spread out among the clutter on the coffee table, I pocketed my phone and wallet and headed to the front door. It was still raining, but I hoped I could borrow an umbrella from Ema long enough to buy a new one from the convenience store nearby. I stood ready; shoes on, hat on, keys and wallet in one of many pockets on my person. Then a thought struck me, making me pause, my fingers just short of grasping the door handle. Why hadn't I just bought an umbrella from the convenience store yesterday?

Before I could think further, my phone rang again. I had had enough. I had never even heard my phone's ring tone this much before; and I was tiring of it already. Opening my door with one hand, I answered my cellphone with the other. "Hello?" I answered harshly as I stepped outside...

...and immediately stopped.

Kaito stood blinking in front of me, looking as surprised as I was. His hand was poised to ring the doorbell, and his other held up his own phone to his ear. Beyond him, a familiar wet umbrella leaned against the railings, creating a puddle of excess water on the concrete beneath it.

"Hatsune-san," he said, and I could hear the feedback of his voice made tinny by my phone.

Behind me, my door automatically closed and locked itself.

I lowered my phone, looking at it as I ended the call. My heartbeat was ringing in my ears. He'd been the one calling. "I didn't know it was you," I said, feeling my face flush with warmth. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to return your umbrella," he said. He sounded as uncertain as I was. "Sorry, I got your number from one of your co-workers. They said you weren't feeling well and that today was your day off so when you didn't answer, I... I'm sorry for not sending a message..." His voice trailed off. The pitter-patter of rainfall seemed deafening.

"Ah," I said eloquently, pocketing my phone. "I don't answer calls from numbers I'm not familiar with," I added uselessly. I found that I couldn't look at his face. Instead my gaze jumped from his black sneakers to his blue argyle sweater. "Um...thank you, Shion-san, for returning my umbrella. And I'm obviously all right now. But what about you? It's still raining."

"Oh," he said. "Uh..."

Something in his voice made me look up. He was looking to the side, covering the lower half of his face with his hand. The tips of his ears were red. "I forgot to bring it," he said of his missing umbrella.

He seemed almost as out of it as I was. I knew it wasn't right to take comfort in other people's discomfort; but his forgetfulness made me feel at ease. "I was about to go down to my landlady's apartment to borrow an umbrella," I offered after lowering my hand.

He looked back at me, as if for the first time taking notice of what I was wearing. "You're going out?" he asked.

I nodded, motioning towards the stairs. He wordlessly followed, taking my umbrella with him. "I was thinking of buying a better pair of boots," I explained. "The ones I had weren't as waterproof as I thought. The rain yesterday fell hard so fast that I was caught off-guard."

Ah...I was thinking about that again. I didn't want to let yesterday affect my actions towards him. I wanted to be normal with him for a while longer. I hoped he wouldn't bring it up. I hoped I wouldn't have to.

"You didn't have an umbrella yesterday," he said as we descended the stairs. "I was worried."

"It's nothing," I assured him, not wanting to trouble him any more than I already had. I kept my tone light, my gaze on the steps before me. "My landlady caught me just in time before it got too bad. She's a really good person. I'm sure she'll lend you an umbrella. If not, I can lend you mine again."

"No," he said beside me. "I can't let you go without an umbrella. The weather report says it's going to be raining non-stop for a few days."

"Ah, really?"

We reached the ground floor. I led him to the unit nearest to the stairs and pressed the doorbell button. After a short while, the door opened a crack, revealing a portion of my landlady's face. Seeing me, she opened the door further, looking expectant. "Miku-chan?"

"Good morning, Ema-san," I greeted politely. "I was wondering if I could borrow an umbrella today."

"You're going out in this horrid weather, are you?" she asked, looking past me at what I assumed was the man behind me. Her brows furrowed into a disapproving frown. "This must be the friend who borrowed your umbrella yesterday."

"Yes." I turned halfway and introduced them to each other. After pleasantries were exchanged, my landlady eyed my umbrella and said, "You're going to need a bigger umbrella, Miku-chan. I have one I can lend to you for today." She turned around and shuffled among the bunch of umbrellas in a stand.

"Eh? Ema-san, we aren't"—

"Here," she said, coming back and handing over a large yellow umbrella. With a "You two enjoy yourselves," she shut the door on us. In the background of falling rain, I looked at the umbrella with its bright yellow handle and turned to him, "I'm sorry. It turned out like this."

He gently took the sunny yellow thing and unfurled it. Somewhere during the last two minutes, he had folded my umbrella. It now hung demurely on its strap around his wrist. "We're headed in the same direction anyway," he said, granting me a kind smile I didn't deserve. He beckoned me closer, holding up the umbrella. "I saw a convenience store on the way here."

I stepped under the portable shelter with him. The world narrowed down once more to just the two of us under the bright yellow plastic dome. It was surreal. My stomach dropped. I thought I'd never get to experience something like this ever again with him; walking side by side, sharing an umbrella.

The rain drummed unimaginable beats as usual; the kind of tapping sound it made on the yellow canopy was distracting. It sounded soft and muffled, like listening to something underwater. Normally I would have marveled at these simple things, but today I couldn't. There was an air of uneasiness between Kaito and me. It felt like a finality, like this was going to be the last time we got to spend time with each other.

I didn't want it to be like this. I didn't want to go back to exchanging simple greetings with him. He was Kaito. He was... He was...

He was walking with me. He came on a rainy morning, at a time when he would be resting, to return my umbrella. He asked someone for my number after I rudely left him alone with two strangers. Could I take it to mean something? Could he actually mean what he had written on those letters? Surreptitiously glancing at him, it was impossible to think that he was affected by it. He seemed like his usual self, if not a little bit more withdrawn. (Listen to me; going on about him as if I knew everything about him.) I wanted to ask him, yet at the same time I was afraid to find out. Ask him what, I also didn't know.

The convenience store appeared brightly before us, displaying a cheerful variety of rain gear in all sorts of bright and gaudy colors and patterns from its glass windows. As we went inside and examined the items, we saw that the store didn't seem to have anything more suited for men.

"Do you think pink would clash with my hair?" he asked beside me as we stood before a rack of umbrellas in varying shades of pink. Overhead was a rack of equally pink raincoats. It was such a sudden and weird question that it startled a giggle out of me.

"She knows how to laugh," he said, parroting my words from days ago, relief coloring his words. "That's good."

I raised my gaze. His eyes were the gentlest I'd ever seen from him as he looked at me. The soft curve of his lips softened the rest of his face. He was looking warmly at me, and I felt something inside me crack and crumble. How could a person like me still deserve that kind of look from him? This heavy feeling in my chest was making it hard for me to look him in the eye with every conviction that I was fine. I wasn't fine and, god help me, he was making it worse.

I quickly looked away to the rack of pink umbrellas and picked one in a very soft and light shade, mumbling, "I'll buy this one. So you can keep mine." Attempting a lighter atmosphere, I turned back to him, forcing a small smile on my lips as I looked at his nose. "That way, you won't have to worry about your hair," I said before escaping to the check-out counter with my acquisition.

As I stood waiting in line, he came up behind me and asked. "Can I pay for it, at least? In exchange for your old umbrella."

"It's fine, you don't have to," I said. I didn't want to see his face. I felt rude.

"I insist," he said softly, and I repressed the urge to shiver. He was so close. I could feel the puff of his breath along the shell of my ear as his arm brushed along my back. My skin, even clothed, tingled where he came in contact with it. I closed my eyes for just a moment, breathing, "If you must."

When the line moved, I rushed to put some respectable distance between us. The transaction was speedy, and in a matter of moments, we were back on the rainy street. The collapsed pink umbrella joined the green one dangling from Kaito's wrist as we made our way to the station. Both of us seemed to drag our feet at the thought of going, though I couldn't imagine why he would want to delay our parting; or was he just matching his pace to mine?

Both of us were so silent. I couldn't take it; the silence felt accusing and suffocating. But as I was just about to open my mouth, he spoke.

"Hatsune-san." His voice was hesitant, yet it filled me with a sense of calm. It stilled the uneasy and unpleasant thoughts chasing each other around in my mind. "I'm sorry if I'm being too forward, but do you need company today?" The insinuation was there. He wanted to be in my company, and it thrilled me.

How could I resist this man's offer? On the one hand, I wanted to hide myself from him; on the other, I wanted to stay in his presence. He sent me into a spiral of strange feelings that made me think I must be going insane. I humiliated him yesterday; I owed it to him to at least behave more rationally today.

...and I wanted to find out once and for all whether he had been the one writing those letters.

"If you aren't busy," I answered him.

I knew what this feeling was now, this thing in my chest. The elated smile he gave me only worsened it, this guilt.

Traveling with a man in a crowded train was a nostalgic experience. I was reminded of being in high school, sheltered from jostling crowds by past boyfriends whose faces I barely remember anymore. They were such simple actions; if I was sitting down, he would stand in front of me to give me some air; if I was standing in the middle aisle, he would stand behind me, making sure that my back was protected from wandering hands; if I had my back to the doors, he would stand in front of me and push against the crowd to make sure I wouldn't be suffocated. In those sweet teenage years, I felt protected. I felt cherished. Being with Kaito made me feel that again. His simple presence behind me, his breath occasionally brushing over the top of my head, reminded me of those times.

His hand clasped gently on my shoulder to steady me as the train stopped. The momentum nudged me against his body but he buffered me effortlessly, rocking just once and not stumbling. Disembarking, he paved the way for me through the throng of commuters heading towards the exit. It was only when we were back on the street, with the bright yellow umbrella over our heads, that he released his hand from my shoulder; leaving me once more bereft of something that had once been commonplace when I was younger.

Our walk through the crowded streets of the shopping district was a slow process. A little rain never discouraged the persistent shopper; and we were two among many milling to and fro that day. Sheltered stalls decorated either side of the wide sidewalk, displaying wares covered by sheets of clear plastic to keep them dry. People were stopping here and there as something or other caught their wandering eye. Business was thriving.

Kaito, who had noticed me glancing around, asked, "Do you want to stop and look?" I shook my head. "Are you sure? You don't need to mind me," he said, also looking from stall to stall as we passed them.

"Maybe you found something you want to look at?" I asked in turn, and he shrugged sheepishly, giving me an awkward smile. "Which stand?"

"The one before, selling hats." We rounded back to a simple stall displaying a variety of knit hats and baseball caps. A lot of them had garish designs and patterns as well as faked brand names. I didn't see what truly caught Kaito's attention until he picked up a thick-knit black beanie with a thick ring of blue around it. It was loose at the top when he tried it on, which satisfied him. After paying the stall owner, we went on our way.

"It looks good on you," I said now that we were moving again. He had kept it on after removing the price sticker.

"I had to have it when I saw it," he agreed.

"I never would have seen it among the clutter," I admitted.

"It stood out for me," he said simply.

I was compelled to observe him out of the corner of my eye. Walking beside me, he looked content. "You really like blue, don't you?" I asked.

"Yep," he grinned shamelessly.

"Heh," I smiled.

We reached the mall I wanted to go to shortly afterwards, and I pushed down the sleeves of my jacket to cover my bare arms when we walked in. The mall's crisp and chilly air was a startling difference from the cold humidity and the collective warmth generated by the crowd of pedestrians outside.

"Hang on," Kaito said, steering me off to the side of the entrance where he proceeded to fold the wet umbrella. After shaking it a few times, he hung it by its curved handle off the crook of his arm, the same arm that held the other two umbrellas. "There," he said, satisfied.

"You look like a walking umbrella salesman," I commented.

"I do, don't I?" he said amicably. "Buy two, get one free. Last stock. Super low price. I'll even throw in a free hug."

"That's a cheap tactic," I protested as we moved further into the mall, taking the escalator. He stood at the step after mine, and our gazes were level with each other. He grinned at me, and I was awarded with another flash of his dimple. "It works, though," he said modestly.

"You used to sell umbrellas?"

"Christmas cakes, actually," he corrected. "A part-time job during college."

"That must have been a lot of hugs," I said amid his embarrassed chuckle as we stepped off the escalator and walked deeper into the mall's innards. Shops glowed cheerfully on either side of the walkways, its display windows bright and alluring with the various items of its trades.

"I only worked two weeks, and the hugs were only for the last three boxes."

"So you gave fourteen hugs, huh?"

"Somehow I get the feeling you're laughing. On the inside," he said, looking at me suspiciously.

"I am," I readily agreed.

"And here I expected you to deny it."

"I mustn't tell lies."

I didn't know what changed; between the train ride and now, both he and I seemed to be more comfortable with each other. I was happy, but at the same time I felt like I was betraying both him and myself by not acknowledging what had happened yesterday.

No... I wasn't happy. I was putting on my cafe persona, the flirt, so I could be at ease with him when my real self couldn't. I was forcing myself to feel and act normally. Was he doing the same?

We stopped at a shoe store I found on the Internet last night. They were putting last year's remaining inventory on sale, enthusiastically advertising waterproof boots at drastically reduced prices. It was a high-end store; and I was half-expecting the sale to be over. But though it was now noon, there were still quite a few styles left. Three different boots that I picked out from the site pictures alone were still available in my size. In the end I chose a pair of knee-length boots. The leather was soft, artfully creased at the ankles, and allowed me to fold the length down to my calves. The toe was narrow and squared, the arch was perfect for my feet, and the heel was a comfortable three inches. The best part, most of all, was the price: it was a quarter of its original price.

We were in and out of the store in less than ten minutes, something Kaito appreciated as he offered to buy lunch.

"What would you like?" he asked.

"Pudding," I immediately said, making him laugh. "Then," he said, quickly smothering his chuckles, "I saw a bistro a few streets back. Or do you want to stop by Tête-à-Tête?"

"The bistro is fine," I smiled, hooking my shopping bag on the crook of my arm. "I want to sample their pudding. Ah," I gave a start, absently reaching out to lay my hand on his arm. "You just reminded me. I tried Pii-san's pudding the other day; it was so delicious. He drew a daisy on the plate with the caramel and it was so pretty."

"So you're spying for Tête-à-Tête? To see if anything out there is better than Pii-san's pudding?"

"Only you would think of it as spying, Shion-san."

"Wait, what? Why would I?"

"You said it, not me."

"Oh, I did, huh?"

His manner seemed to grow more gentle with every sentence that passed between us, like he was genuinely pleased with the inconsequential conversation that continued throughout the lunch he paid for. My insides were churning uncomfortably with the lies I forced myself to act. This wasn't work. This was different. I couldn't behave in front of him like he was just a customer. I knew him. I was starting to know him personally, and he knew a few things about me, too.

As a person...maybe even as a friend, I wasn't being fair to him, especially when he was smiling so sincerely at me from across the bistro's table like he couldn't even think about being anywhere else. How could I continue this farce in the face of so much kindness?

The brittle mask of forced cheerfulness broke; and the ugly feelings patiently biding their time, bubbling beneath the surface, finally emerged into the forefront of my thoughts. Something of it must have shown in my expression, for when he took one look at me, his own blithe mood evaporated. The table separating us seemed to broaden along with the abrupt silence. Beyond it, beyond us, the bistro's ambient atmosphere prevailed despite the inclement weather. Employees and patrons continued about their business, serving and ordering to their heart's content.

"Hatsune-san," he asked. "Have I said something wrong?"

It hurt. Even now he still placed my welfare above his own. His kindness pained me. I didn't deserve it.

I shook my head, my gaze tracking down from his concerned expression to the cup of tea in front of me. "No," I smiled weakly at the fine china. "Today was nice. I had fun. Even when it was only to buy shoes, you made it fun. Um..." I bit my lip, gathering my thoughts.

"Shion-san," I said to the cup, my voice soft now that I had lost my confidence. "About yesterday, I..."

"Ah," he interrupted with a cough, making me look at him. He had averted his gaze to the window by which our table was situated. His hand covered the lower half of his face. "I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting—that is... It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," I said insistently, leaning forward to make my point. "Yesterday with those women, I overheard them and.."

"How much did you hear?" he asked. His gaze was steady on a fixed point at the window or beyond it. His elbow rested on the edge of the table, supporting his hand as it covered his mouth.

"Since they opened the letter," I said quietly, glancing down. When I raised my gaze, he was looking straight at me. I couldn't read his expression, but I couldn't look away from his eyes. They seemed accusing, expectant; and without thinking I said, "I'm sorry."

He leaned back as if I had struck him, and for a second I could have sworn a look of hurt crossed his features. But I blinked and instead saw measured calm. It confused me. I licked my lips, glancing down at the teacup for some kind of courage. "Shion-san, did you write that letter?"

I watched him shift in his seat, his gaze once more turned to the rain-spotted window. "Yeah," he answered me, and the puzzle piece in my mind finally clicked into place. "It was a stupid thing to do. Those kinds of people picked it up. I wasn't expecting anything, actually, when I started writing it. Anyone could have picked it up and thought how stupid I must have been to do it in the first place."

"It's not stupid." This dejection again. He was looking like he did that time, when he helped me buy my groceries. Where was the confident Kaito that had been sitting across me until now?

"It is. You don't have to be so nice about it, Hatsune-san."

"It's not!"

My vehemence surprised him, surely. He stared at me in the same way I probably had him just moments ago. My words were inadequate; and I didn't know how to say what I really wanted to say. So I said the only thing that could be said.

"I'd like to go home now."

The commute back to my apartment was a quiet affair; the walk, the train ride. He still felt obligated to see me to my door, and once again braved the rain and my company under the big yellow umbrella. Our footsteps were drowned out by the traffic, the traffic was drowned out by the rain, and the rain was drowned out by our silence. Under our umbrella, I could hear the sound of my soft breathing. My heart thumped gently in my chest. My fingertips were cold with nerves.

We returned the yellow umbrella to my landlady after wiping it down; it was something she appreciated, and mentioned that she was glad to see I had my responsible self back. That was one way of putting it. For what I was about to do, I was owning up to my responsibilities as a person, a maybe-friend, but most importantly, a human being.

I had to stop being so afraid of the consequences—no, I had to learn to accept the fact that this fear of the unknown will never go away, no matter how old I would become. I couldn't brush things aside, or wait for someone else to bring it up; because the chances were that nobody else would do it either. People were funny that way. I was funny that way. Today, I also learned he was funny that way, too.

So when Kaito walked me to my door, the third one down the hall on the third floor, I asked him to wait a while. I could tell he was confused, but he nodded all the same. Even now, knowing how weird I must be, he was still kind to me.

The cold and empty apartment yawned before me as I stood in the foyer, the whirring of the fridge was the only sound within it. What I wanted was on the table in my living room. After retrieving them, I held them behind me as I slipped on my sneakers and stepped outside again.

He was looking beyond the railing, his back turned to me. In the background of the rain, in all the blinding grayness, his silhouette was black and blue. He turned at the sound of the door, and watched me as I stepped out from behind it.

"What is it?" he asked.

Wordlessly, I let the hand at my back swing forward, my other hand came up as well, holding the other end of the white papers and their white envelopes. I held them out to him.

His face was stricken with surprise, and after a few seconds, spots of color appeared high on his cheeks. He took the letters written in his neat hand, and looked at them. "These—you received them."

"Yes," I said.

"All this time..." He looked at me.

"Yes," I said, my face growing warm from his attention. "I didn't know it was you until the third letter," I confessed, looking down at the letters still in his hand when I couldn't keep eye contact any longer. "And the details were vague, so I thought it could be someone else. But then yesterday...and then today, I..."

"Hatsune-san"—

"Yesterday, when those women talked about your letter, I got mad," I continued.

"...yeah."

"They mocked your letter, but when I first got your letter, I thought it was silly, too."

"It is."

"It isn't," I frowned at him, and quickly looked down again. "I may have thought so at first, but when I came home after I got that first letter, I felt lonely. Your letter made me realize how much of a lonely life I had been living since college. No friends, no hobbies that require the presence of other people, nothing but a job to go to to pay the bills...it was lonely. I looked forward to receiving the letters with the weird messages.

"Then you walked with me to buy groceries, and you looked like something was bothering you. At the time I was thinking that maybe I should reach out to you because you looked like you needed a laugh. I hadn't done that in a long time."

He chuckled weakly. "It was a good attempt," he offered, and I smiled wanly at him.

"I started feeling uneasy when I got your third letter; I started to suspect it might be you. I didn't want to. I mean...it's not always about me. At first I thought it was just wishful thinking on my part, because I had just come home from spending the evening with you at Tête-à-Tête. But something changed in that third letter. You were speaking fondly, and I couldn't help but wonder, 'Could this be him? Could he be talking about me?'"

I dared not look up to see what expression he was wearing now.

"Then yesterday's letter, and those awful women. I yelled at them, and you were behind me, and I thought then would have been a good time for the earth to swallow me up. You saw me being equally horrible to them and I felt so guilty."

I hadn't realized I had been taking steps back until I felt the cool surface of my door against my shoulders. I gratefully leaned against it, hating how much my knees were trembling. "I'm not a nice person, Shion-san. I got mad at them because they were more vocal about what they felt about the letters, and I felt the same at one point. I was yelling at myself and I was ashamed of myself." I raised my hand, touching the back of my cold fingers to one burning cheek.

It was now or never.

"I should have been the one to receive the fourth letter, not them. I wanted to read it. I wanted to know what was written in it."

Those words hung in the air like rain mist; drifting and slowly sinking to the ground.

"What the..." he said, huffing a weak laugh. "I thought I got rejected at the restaurant. I...are you seeing anyone?"

"What?" I asked, blushing. "No." I looked up at his embarrassed, but relieved face. He was rummaging among the pockets of his jeans, pulling out and putting back random bits of papers. The process was hampered by the two umbrellas still dangling from their straps around his wrist, but he wasn't much deterred. At last he found the one he was looking for; it was a white piece of paper folded multiple times.

"When you said 'sorry,'" he said as he unfolded the sheet. Next to the pristine letters, it looked like a mess. "What were you saying sorry for?"

"I embarrassed you in front of those women," I said quietly.

"It was more like they embarrassed me in front of you," he corrected kindly. "They were talking about my letter, after all." He flattened the unfolded sheet over the rest of the letters, looking at it as he said, "I was happy when I heard you defending a stranger, even though you suspected it was me. I was happy to hear it." He glanced at me, and smiled crookedly. The dimple on his right cheek winked at me. "It's kind of embarrassing, but since we're already at this point, will you listen to my letter?"

He didn't call me silly for being ashamed over something that, to him, was obviously trivial. He didn't laugh; instead he appreciated my effort. I was assuaged in the fact that he said he was happy. In that moment, the guilt started to ease.

"If it's embarrassing," I started. "You should just let me read it."

The relief was palpable in his smile, and he held out the creased and hastily folded sheet. "Then, please read it." He extended the paper to me. Taking it with a murmured thanks, I lowered my gaze to the sheet.

It had been crumpled at one point; and a corner had been torn, but the words were still legible. The familiar calligraphy was a comfort, and I reached up to trace them with a fingertip as I silently read along.

_Hello again!_

_I know it sounds so silly, but I feel so cheered up that you continued to read my letters. It makes me wonder now what kind of person you are in real life. You must be a really nice person to continue doing this even though we don't know each other._

_So on Sunday, I did get to see her again. She looked so beautiful that night, I wanted to say that to her. But as I thought, I couldn't say things like that so easily. I wonder how my co-workers could say it so casually without feeling awkward afterward._

_I forgot to tell you this the other day. This woman, she shared with me her treasure. It was actually just store-bought pudding, but she was so serious about it that it was cute. I could tell she was really passionate about pudding. Because of this, I think she's a person who can appreciate the simple things in life._

_I got to share with her my own treasure on Sunday. I even felt honored that I got to serve it to her. It's not as simple as hers is, but when she told me she liked it, I felt so relieved. Hey...I don't know when I started to value her opinion. I think I've always been curious about what she thought about things, ever since I first met her years ago at the place we work._

I remembered the two women stopped reading here. I remembered getting irrational and angry when they continually mocked this letter. There was a paragraph that they didn't read out loud, and I wondered if it was because I had interrupted them.

_I really do like her. I wonder if I should write her a letter, too? I have a feeling she'll crumple it up and throw it in my face, though. If I end up writing a letter; I wonder if I can run it by you? Will you tell me if it's good enough?_

I was smiling when I finished reading the contents of the abused paper in my hands, and laughed when I looked up to see his anxious face hovering near mine. It seemed that while I was reading, he was also doing the same, reading upside down. This man was...well...silly; it was an endearing kind of silly that made me want to know him even more.

"I want to receive more letters from you, Shion-san," I told him, my own relief finally showing as I relaxed against my apartment door. In this position, looking up at him, I couldn't help but notice our height difference. I never truly thought about it until now, when he was so close to me that I could see the lighter and darker flecks of blue in his eyes. His fringe, flattened against his forehead by his hat, was brushing along his lashes. Without thinking, I reached up and brushed them aside.

His hand caught mine in an instant, and I flushed as his big hand almost covered mine completely. "Your fingers are cold," he said. He must be right; his hand felt toasty.

"I'm sorry," I started to say, but he shook his head.

"Hatsune-san, when you look at me that way," he sighed. "That time in the rain, and on the train, and now. I..."

He looked at my hand in his, and with some clever use of his fingers he laced them with mine. "Will you really read my letters?" he asked. There was a vulnerability I'd never encountered before, like he was counting on my answer to bring him happiness.

"Yes," I said to him, finally recognizing the butterflies in the pit of my belly for what they were: nervousness, excitement, _need_. I gently squeezed his hand. "I want to know you more, Shion-san."

"Kaito," he corrected gently, slowly lifting my hand to his mouth. The skin on the back of my hand tingled where he softly brushed a kiss over it. Then, lifting it away, he leaned close, lightly nudging my nose with his. "Please call me Kaito from now on," he said softly, his eyes on me intent with an unnameable emotion. I slowly licked my lips, and watched in fascination as his gaze drew down to watch. His lashes were long. His breath was hot on my damp lips as he waited.

"Kaito...?" I tested, his name rolling hesitantly off my tongue. It was different, so different, saying his name out loud instead of just imagining how it would sound coming from my own lips. He raised his eyebrow at the lilt towards the end, and I couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity of it all. "Sorry, I"—

The kiss was brief; a ghost of a touch of his lips on mine, there one moment and gone the next. Already the warmth of his mouth was fading, absorbed into my body. He was keeping his gaze lowered, his face a mask of tension just inches from mine. Slowly, I smiled, and his stance shifted as he saw it.

"Kaito," I said softly, drawing his eyes back to mine. "Kaito," I said again, and watched them crinkle gently at the corners. "Kaito," I murmured, my eyes lowering before he brought his lips back down on mine.

His lips were as soft as I thought they would be, warm, slow and gentle against my own. I tilted my head back as he leaned forward, my back now flush against the door with him against me. He was warm, and the scent of him surrounded me like a light blanket. He smelled of rain and fresh leaves and mint. He parted his lips against mine, his tongue hesitantly brushing along the seam of my lips. I readily opened up to him, and was awarded with a soft nibble on my lower lip before he dipped his tongue in my mouth, seeking, seeking for mine. He was warm, so warm.

Slowly, gently, the kiss ended, and he gradually pulled away from my lips with light nips of his own. Our breaths mingled as we came up for air, our noses touching, among other things I was slowly beginning to be conscious of. His chest was heaving against mine, a warm and comfortable weight. His face was flushed when I opened my eyes. His gaze was molten; his pupils dilated, narrowing the band of blue to a thin ring around the black. In my dazed mind, I felt a sense of pride. I made him look like this.

He gradually straightened up, lowering our clasped hands from where he had pinned them against the door. My free hand, the one with the letter, was on his hip so close to mine. He straightened up enough to give me room, but kept me caged against my apartment door. A slow smile crossed my lips as I watched him watching me. We were just two people kissing, both thoroughly kissed. With him in front of me, wanting to be with me, wanting me to read his letters, I didn't feel so alone.

"It's almost five. You're going to be late."

"Come to dinner with me, Hatsune-san."

"Call me Miku."

—

End Chapter 5: Know that I...

**Letters to Nobody: END**

Herro!

You guys wrote such comforting messages, and some of you even scolded me. And some of you who would never usually drop a review even went out of your way to do so! ;A ; (I was blushing so badly in front of the computer that my brother thought I was doing something naughty.)

You were right. I was being whiny. I just wasn't satisfied with how angsty and mildly romantic this story turned out even though it was exactly how I planned it to be. It was one of those days when I couldn't think of a single positive thing, so I regret writing that stupid note in the previous chapter. But I won't remove it because it's funny now that I read it again. It'll also serve as a reminder to keep my whining to myself because it'll only be embarrassing afterwards. (lol) So thank you for pointing out how much of an idiot I was being. So to you guys, **Laniessa**, **kagaminevii**, **Luminous Snow**, **Rose Kagalimes**, **J**, **Amily Croncell**, **Banana**, **orangemangoes**, **A Midsummer Night's Dream**, **Hypnos Maelstrom**, and **Nelliegirl101**, thank you, thank you!

Throughout the course of writing this last chapter, I've been revisiting some old stories I've previously read and liked both here on ffnet and on my bookshelf. I've also read some new stories I've never read before, and old ones I've never given more than a passing glance before. It is the latter that has fascinated me; as if I have woken up to some level of [questionable emotional] maturity to be able to read a story as it should be read, understand it as it should be understood. This kind of awakening has happened to me a lot of times over the past few years; when I read an old book and derive a new meaning in a passage I've read so many times before, or when I finally read a book I've bought a long time ago but only now deigned to give it some attention (like letting a good wine age. lol). It's that kind of [re?]discovery that always stops me and makes me say, 'Wow. This is a new way of looking at it.' or 'I finally understand.'

It is, as **Amily Croncell** says, catharsis. I think that's a very high compliment I feel this story doesn't deserve, but I'll definitely be working hard to write something worthy of it.

So anyway. We've reached the official end of _Letters to Nobody_, my Vocaloid fic debut! Hurrah! This chapter took a long time because it was the most vague part I had outlined during the early brainstorming process. I only truly outlined the last part of this chapter. I had to come to this kind of ending, so I entertained a lot of alternate scenarios 'til I was like "blarg," and wrote like a maniac and ended up with this monster. Thank you so much for following the story up to this point! Thank you! I'm very grateful that you've read this story out of the tens of others that get published in this fandom every day. (Hm..Kaito must feel like this every time his letter is received!) I feel really happy that something I've written for myself is also being enjoyed by others. How should I say it...it's like sharing homemade cookies!

The next page will hold some supplementary scenes outside of Miku's POV that I thought of but had no place for within the chapters. It's mostly stress/comic relief (?) writing. The next page will also talk a little bit about the story's characters as well as include a little doodle or two about how I thought they looked like in this universe. Yay! Yay!

But is this the end of Tête-à-Tête? Not yet! I actually like this small universe I've created. I think I'll write at least one more Tête-à-Tête story with a different pairing. Please watch out for it!

Since this is the last chapter, and I'm not sure if these people will continue reading on to the next page, I will post some personal replies here. Yes! This is for you, chapter 4's unsigned review writers! ^^ (If you wrote a signed review, please check your inbox. :3 I know not many people would take the time to review; that's just the way things are. So I feel really happy when I receive one. I reply to every single one. My effort in return for yours.)

**J **– I'm always seeking ways to improve even more. Be it in genre or even the writing style which, for this story, is seriously inconsistent, I still need to improve on those! But thank you for liking _Letters_. ;- ; Reading your review made me think 'yeah, I sound like some uptight idiot.' orz

**Banana** – Auntie, I'm sorry for losing confidence in myself. I always have these high expectations for what I do that sometimes I feel like I can't even accomplish the level that I set for myself. It's stupid, but it does get things done. Writing _Letters_ was a selfish whim on wanting to break into the genre of Slice of Life. I wanted to see if I could do it; and I set my standards too high and now that it's done, it falls short of my personal expectations. I'm being silly, I know. I'm very happy you continued to read and review every single chapter so far though you're not even a supporter of this pairing. That was the biggest surprise to me, and it humbled me. Thank you, Auntie, for supporting this story. ;- ;

**A Midsummer Night's Dream** – Holy crap! You're right! OA O _Hakobako Player_ is exactly the Miku of this story. It's so cool how there always seems to be a song for every story/type/thingamajig. I'm pretty convinced of this now.

**Hypnos Maelstrom** – (Are you **A Midsummer Night's Dream**, too? c: ) Heh. I've been waiting for a 'guilty' review like this. While writing _Letters_, I reflected on my own forced ignorance to my surroundings. When I was younger, I used to be much nicer; and somewhere along the way I became like everyone else. Schadenfreude is the word to describe it, I think. I laugh when someone messes up; I secretly take delight in my boss freaking out on a co-worker I don't like. What I'm trying to say is: don't feel too guilty. Miku and Kaito are both fictional ideals. Let's do our best as human beings instead. Also, thank you for suggesting _Bartender _(by Jou and Nagatomo, right? This is new to me)! I've just read the first volume and laughed when a variety of the Grasshopper showed up on the first chapter. You're right; Kaito's and Miku's Grasshopper interaction does have a similar feel with the manga. My favorite was the "Cinderella" chapter. I was reminded of an old family friend who used to mix fruit juice and Sprite/7up for me when I was too young to drink the cocktails he usually made in family gatherings. He called them "Mysteries" because he didn't want me to know what he used. He was a jerk and stopped coming around before I started middle school, so I never figured out all the ingredients. He always made cocktails that looked and smelled delicious that I thought it wouldn't be like standalone liquor at all. So I was pretty surprised when I had my first drink (a piña colada) and tasted paint. Urgh. But anyway, that subtle confidence and arrogance in Ryu's character reminded me of him. c: (I had my first sip of beer at 4? 5? It was before my younger brother was born. I nabbed the sip from my father! It smelled like pee and tasted like I'd imagine pee would taste like. Talk about a deterrent. Aren't fathers wonderful?) Thank you for the recommendation, and thank you for reading _Letters_~~

(_080511_)


	6. Story Extras

Letters to Nobody: Extras  
><strong>Warning:<strong> What you'll read below will be a mess of hastily written thoughts. Half-formed or stupid. And definitely unpolished. I normally don't post my snippets or my story notes, so this is a first.  
>This page contains the following:<br>Chapter snippets  
>Miscellaneous DrabblesNon-Drabbles  
>Dubious Character Outlines<br>I dedicate this to the people who've left reviews and to the silent stalkers who've added this story to their alert list and favorites page. Of course I also dedicate this to you, who are currently reading this. c:  
>Here is the "backstage" of this story.~<br>I added small notes here and there to explain my insanity. Enjoy!

Chapter 1 prologue draft: from the pov of an inanimate object

"Hey."

"Excuse me."

Everyone is ignoring me. All I ever receive is a passing glance, and whoever it is moves on. Am I that undesirable? I have lost count of the people who have passed me by since I found myself stranded on a busy sidewalk. Everyone seems to be in a hurry.

"Hey, I'm lost."

The day wears on, and I stay where I am. Dust and smog start to clog my skin, and I feel dirty. Maybe my master will come and pick me up when he realizes he has left me behind in an unfriendly street. My master is an idiot.

I sigh wearily as I feel the winds shifting. Rain is coming soon. I...don't do well in the rain. If I am left out any longer, I will wither.

I will die.

I don't want to die.

I feel someone staring at me, and I look wildly around, trying to spot who it is. The sidewalk was crowded with people. Milling and moving like a mass of cells. In what seems like eternity, the crowd parts, and I see her. Our gazes lock, and something in me thumps wildly. This is it. She is my last chance.

She is walking slowly, taking pains to not get noticed. It is impossible; her hair is meant to stand out. It catches the attention of everyone around her; and though they move on after a moment's notice, she has captured their attention all the same. She stops in front of me, and I look hopefully up at her as indecision crosses her features.

"Please..." I pray. "Please. I don't want to die."

Slowly, hesitantly, she reaches for me, and relief so profound flooded throughout my whole being that I eagerly reached for her waiting hand. I know, then, that I am going to love this woman forever.

Chapter 4 at the cafe: from the observations of Rin

Something weird was going on with Miku today. She hardly paid attention to what she was doing all day; had it not been for me and the rest, she would have lost her job by now.

I mean, come on. Who pours maple syrup into someone's coffee? Seriously.

More suspicious still was her running off just before rehearsals started. And I knew something was going on when that blue-haired dunce came in looking like someone had just kicked his puppy. I watched as the dude calmly endured the diva's verbal lashing like it was nothing to him. Gumi next to me was looking on, too, morbidly fascinated. I just wanted to know what was going on.

So, after a well-meant text message to one of the intended parties and receiving the expected response, I decided to play up the sympathy act.

"Oh no, Gumi," I said out loud, making sure that the dude with the blue hair and the sulky slouch was nearby. "Miku is sick again!"

The girl, bless her soul, was looking at me like I was insane. After winking at her and jerking my head back to where I assumed the dude was hovering nearby, she finally got it. "Oh my," she said aloud, covering her mouth with her dainty fingers. "And she lives alone, the poor thing! She was sick last time too, wasn't she? We have to look after her!"

"Why are you two talking like a bunch of—oof!" Len doubled over as I 'accidentally' elbowed him in the gut.

"But we have work tomorrow, Gumi," I complained loudly to my friend, who was trembling in her seat to contain her laughter. "We can't just skip work to check up on our sick friend, no matter how well-intentioned our excuse is!"

"Hatsune-san is sick?" someone asked behind me, and I grinned winningly at Gumi.

The things I do for friends. And love. What a life.

Chapter 5 mistake: when I'm sleepy, my mind shuts down and I sometimes type weird things

There on the low-lying table was the culprit disturbing me from sleep. Its thin screen lit up and blinked an unfamiliar number as it rang. I frowned. There was a guy creeping around outside my window. His dog was pooping in the yard. What a jerk. I hope he picks up his dog's poop. He's bald. He's fat. He's scratching his head while looking right into my window. I wonder if he can see me. If so, it probably wasn't smart to sit in front of the computer in just a camisole. I wonder if he's a peeping tom. Ah. He's gone. [Had a lot of similar occurrences happening throughout the writing of this story.]

Chapter 5 honesty : what I think Ema-san really wanted to say

"You're going out in this horrid weather, are you?" she asked, looking past me at what I assumed was the man behind me. Her brows furrowed into a disapproving frown. "This must be the idiot who made you walk home in the rain yesterday. Hey. You. What's up with that? What kind of man takes a woman's umbrella when it's raining, huh? Is your penis that small?" [Honestly have no idea how penis sizes literally correlate to being a gentleman, but it's a typical expression. I love Ema-san dearly.]

Chapter 5 red card: what I think Kaito should have done

"I insist," he said softly, and I repressed the urge to shiver. He was so close. I could feel the puff of his breath along the shell of my ear as his arm brushed along my back. My skin, even clothed, tingled where he came in contact with it. I closed my eyes for just a moment. "Shion-san..."

"Hatsune-san," his voice dipped an octave lower, and I openly shivered as I felt the rush of his breath. I squeaked when his tongue slid slowly along the outer shell of my ear and tried to step forward, but he snaked his hand around my waist. "Wait," he whispered. His hand was warm on my belly as he pulled me flush against him. I could feel his warmth radiating down my back, sending thrills racing up and down my spine.

"Why are you doing this..?" I whispered shakily as his free hand lightly cupped my cheek. His lips were oh, so soft as they ghosted along my jaw, his warm breath brushing against my chin. A flush of warmth crept up my neck as he pulled back his lips and nibbled on the edge of my jaw. His teeth were hard and unforgiving, but his tongue was warm and wet as he laved at the marks he was leaving.

Around us, shoppers were continuing about their business, oblivious to the scene they were missing out on.

"I can't help it," he confessed to me softly, making me gasp as his hand on my belly idly slipped under my top, brushing against my hip. I shivered again when his unnaturally warm fingers caressed my navel. "Our writer is a pervert," he said, "though I admit I really like this. Don't you, Hatsune-san? Please say you do..."

It took me a while to say something past the fog clouding my brain. He was such a solid body against my back. His hands were so distracting. His mouth even more so, especially when he wasn't using it to talk. "I've..." I breathed, "never done it in public..."

"I can fix that," he offered. He probably wasn't even aware of how devious he sounded. "But maybe in another fic. Shh..." He soothed me with a soft kiss to my nape; I hadn't even realized I had whimpered in protest. "What I want to do with you will definitely be beyond the boundaries of this rating. Even talking like this is already a T-rating."

"But I can't wait," I mewled and he chuckled against the underside of my jaw. Leaving it with a kiss, he nuzzled his way up the side of my face. "Temptress," he murmured hotly into my ear, and I felt a surge of triumph as I sensed a change in him. "Your wish is my command."

[...:D.. I'm unsure about writing smut!fics for Vocaloid; especially since I'm pretty sure the majority of this community is most definitely under drinking age. Plus writing smut in first person is oddly too self-serving and very creepy.]

Miscellaneous Drabbles/Non-Drabbles

**What Leon does during lunch break.  
><strong> Every lunch break, Leon always disappears. This has been a [not-so-troubling] dilemma among the rest of the staff, because he always shows up when break is over. What puzzles them, however, is to where exactly their resident uncle goes during those breaks.

So Len suggests quite brilliantly one morning to follow their leader to wherever it is he usually goes. The only problem is that their break times aren't exactly synchronized. Miku and Gumi thus refuse to participate, leaving Len and Rin with each other in their misadventure.

As Leon's lunch break nears, the siblings start to get ready. They observe the blond from across the room, their twin gazes tracking him like he is prey. Stealth is key, after all. They trail behind him as he disappears behind the bar, both trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. They hide around the corner of the hallway he walks down, and cautiously peek when they hear the sound of a door opening. They manage to catch the man's leg disappear behind a closing door.

Huh. Leon is only going to the Boss's office. Rin and Len discuss among themselves as to whether or not this truly is the head waiter's usual destination, and both agree to wait and see if he comes out.

Five minutes pass at the rate of eternity, and the twins slowly creep towards the closed door bearing the simple sign 'Manager.' No sounds come from within, but that is to be expected with the kitchen operating nearby. So, like a pair of low-budget spies, brother and sister both lean their ears against the door.

What they hear traumatizes them, quite possibly, for life.

"Mmh..." a distinctly female voice moans. "You have the hands of a god, Leon..."

"You flatter me, Ann," comes a gentle rumble. "Hush now, just enjoy."

"_Oh_ , yes..." their boss sighs, then gives a great audible gasp. "Yes! _Yes_, right there. Ohhh..._do that again_..."

Brother and sister both stare at each other with identical horrified expressions on their faces. The shock worsens when they hear a particularly high-pitched gasp through the door. They flee the scene and return to work, and for the rest of the month they can hardly bring themselves to look their superiors in the eye. Silly twins.

**What Leon really does during lunch break:** give Boss a back rub.

**When Kaito accidentally walks into the women's changing rooms.**

"KYAAAAAA! KAITO PERVERT!" Insert lots of screaming and throwing of things here.

**When Len accidentally walks into the women's changing rooms.**

"FINALLY! PUT THIS SKIRT ON!" Insert the mauling of an effeminate male body here. Add on frills. And lace. And makeup. And a wig.

As I write this, I feel no pity for Len at all. I shall happily be your fag hag, Len!

**When Gakupo accidentally walks into the women's changing rooms.**

...What? He doesn't get caught. He's friggin' ninja.

**When Meiko and Luka accide—purposefully barge into the men's changing rooms.**

"Put 'em up, boys. It's time for your monthly inspection."

Sometimes Boss joins the observation. It is a rare privilege to ogle the bodies of fine male specimen. For free. Without going to the red-light district. The night shift women of Tête-à-Tête take advantage of this opportunity with an eagerness comparative to a pack of hyenas taking down a gazelle.

The men take it like men. They cry on the inside and think of the paycheck they will receive. (Al and Leon proudly boast their assets, however. British men are very stiff-upper-lippy; keeping calm and carrying on, and thinking of England.)

I'm proud of you, men.  
>(Of course, in the real world this is sexual harassment at the work place. xc x )<p>

**How Big Al was hired at Tête-à-Tête.**

His target had been sighted leaving his home at precisely four in the morning. For the past six days of surveillance, this had been the target's routine. He had holed himself up in a cramped, ratty room in an apartment building directly across his target and had done nothing since but sit and wait. The days had been long, the nights even longer. He ate and slept little. Stakeouts worked that way.

He was tired of waiting. It was the sixth day, and Al was more than ready to step up his game from surveillance to tailing. So when the man left that cloudy morning, Al was trailing after him.

His target was a threat to his government. According to the dossier his agency provided him, this man was a key suspect in a lot of covert, secrets-within-secrets offshore operations. How the man was still alive today only proved his skill in keeping himself six steps ahead of everybody else; even those whom he worked with and for. Al's line of work had a name for targets such as these: lone wolf. Lone wolves were the most dangerous of operatives; which was why Al, a lone wolf himself, was given the job.

It had been a stroke of luck to actually track down the elusive target to a specific address in a specific country. Al hadn't been expecting something so simple, thinking that his target would be operating under the belief that his pursuers would be aware of such a blatant move. Then again, if Al were to truly think about it, as a pursuer he would assume that such a genius of a target wouldn't do something so obvious. Then again, he would think that his target would like him to think so, or wouldn't he? It was a basic principle that had tacticians run around in circles, chasing their own reasoning.

Al's solution had been a practical one: cover all the bases. If the target wasn't at one point, then he was at the other. Al had narrowed down his search to two hypothesized locations derived from a very faint trace of paper trail; and it turned out he had been right on his first hunch and the other had been a decoy.

Damn, he loved his job.

He trailed his target through various train lines. If he wasn't confident in his ability to remain hidden, he would have thought his target had figured out he had a tail. As such, his target finally emerged from the train station at a brisk walk.

Al stayed a block behind; the street was barren of any pedestrians or traffic that he could blend in with. He hadn't taken into account how early mornings meant less people. Peeking from the alley, he spotted his quarry turn a corner, and he swiftly moved to pursue him.

What his target had walked into was a locked side entrance. Al retreated, and walked towards the front of the property.

"Well bugger me to death," fell from his slack mouth as the sign Tête-à-Tête greeted him in true Parisian cafe-style. The sign hung from a wrought iron bracket molded to the store's edifice. Below the froufrou words bore the legend 'maid and butler cafe,' and below that dictated the hours of operation through the week. Something white flashed out of the corner of his eye, and he saw the HIRING sign taped to the cafe's clear glass door.

He grinned.

_The next day..._

"Welcome, Master!" he was greeted by a cute young thing with long, teal blue twin tails. The girl's fair skin glowed from the traditional black French maid's ensemble she wore perfectly. "How are you today?"

"Good, now that I've seen you," Al easily said, leaning down to look the girl in the eye. To her credit, despite his appearance, the girl smiled and tittered good-naturedly. "Oh, Master," she said. "It makes me so happy to hear that. My name is Miku! Let me show you to your seat~"

"Actually," the man said, straightening up. "I'm here about a job."

"Did somebody say 'job'?" a deceptively soft voice said from behind the bar. Al walked further into the cafe, absently patting Gumi on the head with a murmured thanks. A buxom blonde figure leaned over the bar's surface, displaying an impressive set of breasts straining behind a simple white button-up. "Ah," she said as she spotted Al. "Stop right there, please."

Al raised his eyebrow, but stopped just before he reached the first stool. The blonde eyed him from head to toe, muttering to herself ("Good physique. Mysterious marks. Sharp eyes.") before saying, "Turn, slowly."

Again, Al obeyed, amused at being treated like a piece of meat. He smirked when he caught the words "nice rump," from the blonde, and made sure to flex them for her benefit before facing her once more. A satisfied smile curved along the blonde's cherry red mouth. "Qualifications?" she asked.

"Served as a waiter at numerous hotel restaurants and catering companies over the years. Sacher, Novotel Plovdiv, the Four Seasons in Prague, Titania..." Half-truths, all of them.

"You move around a lot?"

"Used to. Now I think I'm going to settle down for a while."

"Where did you get the scar on your forehead?" the blonde asked.

"Where did you get the scar on your neck?" he asked in return, playful smirk in place.

The blonde leaned back, her hand automatically reaching up to cover the choker around her neck. Her bright blue eyes narrowed. "Leon!" she barked.

Silent as a whisper, a tall blond man appeared behind the woman. Upon spotting Al, he tensed, his own eyes narrowing in recognition. Al turned his smirk to him, his manner subtly shifting to predatory. "Is there a problem, Ann?" the man named Leon asked.

"Not at all," Ann said, straightening up and turning to her employee. "Meet your night shift counterpart. You, what's your name?"

"Al," he supplied.

"Al," Ann said to Leon. "Leon will show you the basics of what you'll do. Your shift starts at night, five to twelve; five to eleven on Sundays. Come by the office later." Sparing her new employee a saucy smile, she said, "From today on, I'll be your boss. Call me Mistress."

"Yes, Mistress," Al parroted, making the blonde's smile wider. With a wave and a pat to Leon's arm, she disappeared down what Al assumed was a blind corridor.

With the Mistress gone, Al and Leon faced each other; smugness was met with animosity. "Well," Leon said after a few beats. "Come behind the bar, I'll show you to the dressing rooms."

To the passive eye the two men seemed, by all accounts, two co-workers walking together. They passed the kitchens, a broom closet, and the manager's office before coming to a stop before a door marked 'Changing Rooms: Male.' Across the hall was a similar door for the females, and further down the hall was the employee water closet.

Leon opened the male changing room door and went inside. Al followed, and was immediately slammed back against the door, jarring it shut. The blond's hand had Al's neck in a vise grip, and he hissed as he leaned close to the big man's ear, "What the bloody hell are you playing at?"

Al grinned, and coughed after taking in a wheezing breath past his abused windpipe. "Couldn't I see an old friend?" he asked.

"I've already retired, you prig," Leon shook him, which was a rather demonstrative mention of his strength, for the man had less bulk than Al did. "How many times must I tell you people to leave me well enough alone?"

"Nobody retires," Al said, looking the blond straight in the eye. "You should well know by now. For people like us who do the things we do, nobody retires."

Leon shoved him off, taking a step away from him and turning around. "Have you come to kill me then?"

That was the question, wasn't it? Here was a man, a highly-prized defector and terrorist, sought after by every known agency in the world; and he was a waiter in a maid cafe. For the past two years, this man had been living comfortably in plain sight dressed as a butler and playing teatime with customers.

Al smirked.

"You'll die on my time. Until then, let's work together."

**When the cafe learns a new word.**

"_Shenanigans_," Leon says.

"_She_—what is?" Len asks, his face scrunching up in confusion. [heh. Nani ga is 'what is.' -gets shot for being lame-]

The rest of the morning shift gather around the bar. It is a slow day; and everyone is hoping for any kind of entertainment that isn't Yuu-san belting out his favorite enka songs.

"_Shenanigans_," Leon repeats. "For example, your following me around during my lunch hour. Don't think I don't know, Len-kun, Rin-chan."

"What!" the boy exclaims, his face turning an embarrassing shade of puce that does nothing at all for his appearance. "I don't know what you're talking about!" he adds defensively, lightly elbowing his sister in the ribs.

"_Shenanigans_," Rin says, ignoring his brother's imploring gesture and looking at Gumi.

"Oh really?" Leon asks. "I heard whispers in the corridor..."

"That wasn't me!"

"_Shenanigans_," Gumi repeats, glancing happily at Miku.

"...and I couldn't mistake that mellifluous alto of yours. It's very unique."

"You must have heard Pii-san! And don't make fun of my voice!"

"_Shenanigans_?" Miku asks Leon.

"Pii-san doesn't have yellow hair," Leon said serenely, reaching over to pet Miku's hair in praise for her effort. He loves doting on the staff; it's a big part of his day. "Indeed, Hatsune-san, _shenanigans_. Oniichan is proud of you."

"It wasn't me with the _she_-hey!" Len insists, pointing an accusing finger at the blond foreigner. "You! That thing you just did! That's _she_..._shena_..._shenanigans_!" [srsly pushing it now. Na is masculine version for Ne; both can mean 'hey.']

"The last person in the class has finally mastered it," Leon announces proudly, raising his hands to clap them together enthusiastically. Leon can be scary with his overzealousness sometimes. "I feel so accomplished."

Len, thoroughly harassed, silently vows revenge.

The next week goes by with everyone saying _shenanigans_ at least thrice a day, defying the logic of grammar and generally butchering the word meaning.

"So this customer asked if we could serve an extra large jumbo, and I was like: _whaaaat_?"; "Hahaha! What's up with that _shenanigans_!"

"What did you do to your hair? That's _shenanigans_!"; "Well, your face is _shenanigans_!"

"_Shenanigans_ my foot. I've done nothing wrong!"; "You're still on about that _shenanigans_?"

One fine morning, the day shift employees are loitering along the corridor, chatting animatedly like a flock of twittering birds. The managerial staff, consisting of one, finally snaps. The door to the manager's office slams open, and everyone present will swear to you later that they have seen low-lying fog billow menacingly from the room within. The corridor lights start blinking in and out, sputtering in fear. The monster has awakened, and the monster is angry.

"STOP ALL THESE _SHENANIGANS_ NOW!" the monster bellows, and everyone cowers in terror. "You buggering, bumbling band of baboons!" [sorry for defiling McGonagall's quote]

Silence reigns in the corridor, everyone afraid to make a move lest he or she angers the demon queen. Said demon queen gives each of them a lasting, nightmare-inducing glare before shutting herself back into her cave—office. The fog dissipates. The lights mysteriously start working well again.

A few seconds later...

"_Buggering_."

...the cycle starts anew.

Dubious Character Outlines

**Characters: Tête-à-Tête** (I feel sad I didn't get to play with all of them in this story. Crap doodles: **i51 . tinypic . com / k1q9na . jpg** [copypaste and remove spaces])**  
><strong>Sweet Ann (aka Boss, Oneesama): She's the [scary] boss lady. May look pleasant but is actually a closet pervert. Loves to dress up her employees. Can drink anyone under the table and does it with a very serene face; is the cafe's reigning champion of booze. Turns into a dictator when her cafe is threatened.  
><span>Leon (Head Waiter and Bartender – day shift):<span> Has a complex; thinks he's everyone's big brother, but is more like an overly affectionate uncle. Takes care of everyone except Al. Specialty: makes the best shakes.  
><span>Miku (Waitress – day shift):<span> Actually takes her job seriously to the point that she's like a wind-up doll. Has a secret love for Pii-san's creations, but is still too shy to ask for them. Loves simple food. Can live on toast and ramen water for weeks.  
><span>Len (Waiter – day shift):<span> Doesn't do his job, ends up following Rin around to make sure she doesn't get hit on or harassed.  
><span>Rin (Waitress – day shift):<span> Can take care of herself. Stupid Len.  
><span>Gumi (Waitress – day shift):<span> Is friends with everyone. :D She's a very happy morning person. Loves frogs and humming. Sleeps promptly at 11pm five days in the week. Her boyfriends don't like it. Pesters Pii-san about recipes she can do at home. Personality is a little similar to Ranka Lee. Love love Macross! Love love Nakajima Megumi-sama! I mean.. come on—she sang "Watashi no Kare wa Sengoku Bushou/My Boyfriend is a Sengoku Warlord," a parody of the original Minmei song which Ranka covered, "Watashi no Kare wa PILOT/My Boyfriend is a Pilot."  
><span>Yuu-san (Head Chef – day shift):<span> Ex-military serviceman (navy). Is graceful under lunch hour pressure. Bald by choice. Actually has very nice eyes. Can hold his breath for 5min48sec. Runs a very clean kitchen. Hogs kitchen radio to play enka station all day.  
><span>Pii-san (Patisserie Chef – day shift):<span>Passionate about desserts. Has actually won awards for the cafe, but is a big wuss. Prone to being driven to suicide attempts. Leon always stops him. Yuu-san drugs him sometimes to keep him calm, but Boss doesn't like it.

Big Al (Head Waiter – night shift): Worked a crap-ton of odd jobs before landing in the cafe. Nobody knows exactly what he has done in his life. Rumors go around saying he is a retired SAS agent. Is the same age as Leon, and works hard to piss him off. They're like a bunch of grumpy old men.  
><span>Kiyoteru (Bartender – night shift):<span> Is an accountant by day. Really, really loves money. Is the star of the cafe's night life, providing booze to everyone. Gets cranky when someone doesn't tip him. Can't imagine him as anyone else but Ootori Kyouya from Ouran Koukou Hostubu. Heh.  
><span>Gakupo (Waiter – night shift):<span> Nobody knows what's going on in his head. Seriously. Has been scouted many times in the past for his looks and his voice. Has been sent a bomb once. Just once. Al disarmed it. If Gumi is Ranka, then this Sengoku bushou is Alto, more or less.  
><span>Luka (Waitress – night shift):<span> Is actually working to put herself through med school. Loves to flirt with the customers to get extra tips for buying shoes. Scary thing is that it actually works. ...Sheryl. T_ T Serial dater type: casual.  
><span>Meiko (Waitress – night shift):<span> Dreams of being scouted. Usually drinks when things don't go well. Usually drinks when dates don't go well. Is really terrible at holding her liquor. Is roommates with Luka. Serial dater type: intense. Just realized I drew her hair in a pixie cut yet wrote that she wore a bob. Uh oh. Inconsistency.  
><span>Kaito (Waiter – night shift):<span> Loves to sleep. Doesn't fully wake up until after 6pm. Is a sentimental bastard. Often forgets to comb his hair. Keeps a lot of paper in his pocket to write songs.  
><strong>Characters: Others<strong> (I really hate coming up with names.)  
><span>Enzo-san (cafe patron):<span> Is a look-but-not-touch type of person. Because his wife is super strict, he is reduced to visiting maid cafes instead of strip bars. He's a normal working man who regrets being married. Poor baby.  
><span>Acchan and the Nameless Blonde (women who found Kaito's letter):<span> Best trait: extortion. Both love karaoke. Very vain. Are the types to freak out over a wrinkle or chipped nail polish or split end. Total valley girls.  
><span>Ema-san (Miku's Landlady):<span> Grandmotherly-type. Enjoys cute-shaped bread and animal crackers. Loves to invite single tenants to tea and give them oranges. Best tactic to get them to do things for her. Is really a very sneaky person.

(_080511_)


End file.
